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taexual · 4 years

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i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (16)

jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: angst

words: 6.6k

chapter sixteen

Despite deciding not to make your already uncomfortable situation even more awkward by discussing your kiss, Jungkook could not stop thinking about it the entire drive back to your dormitory. Actually, he’d been thinking about the kiss nearly every moment since it happened, but with you in the car next to him, his thoughts became clearer. More defined. More vibrant.

If he’d have closed his eyes – not a good idea for someone who was behind the wheel of a car; but it wasn’t like Jungkook was above entertaining bad ideas – he swore he could return to that moment when he had you underneath him on his bed, your mouth against his, right before his mother knocked on the door and interrupted you.

What would have happened if she hadn’t knocked?

“You okay?” you asked suddenly, the question startling him.

“Hmm?” he nearly swerved off the road, answering you in a high-pitched voice, “yeah. Why?”

“You just inhaled really—nevermind,” you changed your mind – it was better to stay quiet all the way home. But, aware how weird your question seemed without any explanations, you mumbled under your breath, “thought you were suffocating or something.”

Jungkook hadn’t realized his breath got caught in his throat every time he remembered kissing you, but it made sense; his body needed to give up every other activity—no matter how crucial for his survival it was—in order to make enough space in his mind to fully immerse itself into the memory.

The memory was so important to him because, based on the way you shifted closer to the door and further away from him in his car, he could tell that even the lingering possibility of bringing the kiss up made you close off. So the chance of it happening again – him, getting you to lower your guards down enough to allow another kiss – was so slim, it was incredible he hadn’t given up yet.

“So, I take it you won’t make it to my gig this Friday, then,” Jungkook said when he entered the campus, nodding at the barrier guard through his window before turning to look at you to show you that, no, he wasn’t going to try to get you to talk about last weekend, but also, no, he wasn’t going to completely let this go, either.

“No,” you said with a quick glance his way, the barbecue at his father’s company written in red letters in your mental itinerary. “Not this Friday. Sorry.”

He thought this over – “this” Friday meant that next Friday still had an opening. He liked these odds.

“Text me if my dad gets too crazy, yeah?” Jungkook asked as he pulled into the parking lot of your dormitory. “I’ll make sure to reply with tips on how to get him to leave you alone.”

“No, you’ll be in the middle of your performance,” you said – expressing your appreciation for his concern by giving him a warm smile – and then dismissed him with a wave of your hand, “I’ll find a way to handle it.”

Stopping the car right in front of the entrance – but not shutting the engine off which was, both, terrible for the environment and also not a very smart idea socially, considering that people were already watching your every step, and they were absolutely going to hear Jungkook’s car – he turned to look at you with a very determined expression on his face.

“If you don’t think I can find a way to include answering texts in my set list, I have news for you,” he said and you thought he was joking – just being reassuring – but the look in his eyes told a different story.

Your smile widened despite your protests. “Alright, noted. But don’t worry about me. Just let me know when you’re done with your gig.”

Jungkook – who’d never had to report his whereabouts to anyone before – found himself nodding eagerly.

“You too,” he said. “I mean, text me when that whole social gathering is over. I can drive over there to take you home.”

“No,” you protested again, “you have an after-party to get to. I’ll make my own way home. Don’t worry—”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he countered, using your own argument against you, “I will come get you out of there early if you’ll need me to. No matter what I’m doing.”

The look on his face was resolute and, for a moment, you considered that perhaps this was his way of showing you that he didn’t want you to go to the company barbecue at all – especially not when he couldn’t be there to supervise and make sure the real story of your relationship remained well hidden behind the tale you’d created for his parents – but then, Jungkook looked down and refuted these thoughts.

“Thank you for doing this,” he said. “My dad already had that look on his face – the scowl he saved for me only – because he’d been expecting me to refuse to come all along, but then you… well, you softened the blow.”

“I didn’t soften it much if he still looked at you like that,” you said, lowering your eyes just as Jungkook raised his.

“No, you did. I’d have gone home, thinking—no, knowing—that I’d let him down yet again,” he said, “and that often has interesting consequences—”

You raised your eyebrows. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Right. But now I get to go home and worry about you being there alone with my family and their colleagues, so that gives me something else to occupy myself with.”

You could have insisted that you weren’t a damsel in distress and could figure out your own way out of a tricky situation if you had to, but you chose to let him have this one. If thinking about this kept him out of trouble while you were out of campus and, possibly, unable to reach him in time, then so be it.

“That’s hardly a better way to spend your time, but if that’s what you’re into these days…” you replied with humor and Jungkook – who could tell that you were only saying this so you’d stop going back and forth with him – forced himself to smile.

“You’re rubbing off on me,” he said. “I’m starting to develop this need to constantly be in control of everything.”

Your mouth opened in genuine surprise and then – almost comically – opened wider still, when you decided to add a more dramatic effect to your reaction, so you could conceal the fact that the portrayal of you, as a control freak, had honestly upset you.

But you couldn’t express your feelings out loud because, admittedly, he was right, you did like to be in control of your surroundings. Shamelessly so, too, because you didn’t think it was wrong to know about everything that involved you.

“That’s not good,” you said. “We can’t both be in control. We’ll clash.”

“If we do, I hope it will be as epic as Harry versus Voldemort.”

You snickered at this, the tension in your shoulders lightening. “I take it you’re Voldemort?”

Jungkook looked positively outraged by this assumption. “Of course not! I’m The Chosen One.”

Now you were full-on laughing. And The Chosen One – who, technically, could have actually been called The Boy Who Lived after all the life-threatening stunts he’d pulled since starting puberty – smiled, beyond proud of himself.

Smiling at each other for several seconds – that could have been minutes or even hours for all you cared; it only felt like one blink of an eye to you anyway – you felt your chest fill with affection. That tended to happen sometimes, especially when you’d been dreading a situation – The Talk About the Sunday Night Kiss – and then managed to successfully make it out alive – by using a method, commonly referred to as, Staying Quiet and Changing the Topic.

“I meant what I said, though,” you spoke and the relief that you didn’t have to endure the awkward ‘so… what do we do now?’ question washed over you with a warm wave. “I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

You had leaned closer him as you said this – it was a natural instinct: reaching out to touch someone’s hand (or, uh-oh, cheek!) for more effect – but you froze mid-way, hanging awkwardly over the console of his car and regretting your very existence because you’d noticed how Jungkook stopped breathing when you moved closer, and how quickly his breathing returned to him – in the form of a disappointed huff – when you suddenly stopped.

“Thank you for taking me to the meeting today,” you ended up blurting as you pulled back, your eyes now firmly locked on the handle of the door.

“Yeah. It’s nothing,” he replied and, somehow, that was it.

The eternity you always spent in his car when he dropped you off in front of your dormitory had suddenly come to an end and, because of how weird it was to leave without saying goodbye – but, then again, were you supposed to hug? Kiss? – your hand lingered on the handle numbly, only pushing the door open a minute later.

Paradoxically, relief and concern both flooded your brain as soon as you stepped one foot outside but then, before you could exit his car, you felt him take hold of your wrist – not pulling you back per se, but holding onto you firmly enough to stop you from moving.

“Hey,” Jungkook said. You were mid-step, so you had to fully exit the car and lean down to look at him.

“Hmm?” you asked, your wrist still in his grip even though he had successfully captured your attention.

“D-don’t…” he tried to say, mumbling the rest of the words under his breath. You frowned, not hearing him, and were about to lean forward to ask what he’d said, when he cleared his throat and tried again, “let’s not be weird around each other, okay? We know each other far too long for that.”

Your plan to keep your mouth shut and divert his attention to different topics had, clearly, only succeeded in part, because Jungkook was addressing last Sunday night, after all, but he didn’t dare to bring the kiss up directly. And his acknowledgement of the fact that you were too stuck in your own head to let him talk to you about the kiss specifically, made it all worse.

“Yeah,” you said then. “I wouldn’t want things to suddenly be weird between us.”

“So, let’s not make it weird,” he said, nodding and reluctantly letting go of your hand. “Don’t forget to text me tomorrow.”

“I won’t,” you pulled your hand back and, with one last smile – that looked forced, uncomfortable and weird; all the things you didn’t want it to look like – you walked away from his car and back to your dorm, ready for Inna’s tirade of questions. Questions that you had no answers to.

What surprised you about the company barbecue on Friday afternoon wasn’t the fact that Inna hadn’t demanded to know all the details of the event when you told her where you’d be going, or the fact that all of the people you’d seen at the bi-yearly meeting on Thursday, were now dressed in red aprons like your friendly neighborhood dads.

It was the fact that Namjoon, of all people, was dressed like one of those dads, too.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, evidently shocked to run into him here. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Oh, hi!” Namjoon seemed just as surprised but he shook your hand – which was his go-to way of saying hello to people, as you’ve learned – and smiled, explaining, “I’m interning here, actually. What about you?”

You were thrown off balance by your surprise – the two of you had talked about your plans for the future before, sharing your ambitions with each other, and yet you didn’t know that he was an intern here – but recovered a moment later to explain yourself.

“Oh, I’m—the CEO is an old family friend, so I’m here as a courtesy of sorts,” you said, feeling self-conscious when you saw Namjoon raise his eyebrows after he learned about this connection. “I was supposed to come earlier to help you set up but my roommate was leaving for the weekend, and she—well, anyway. I’m only here to get acquainted with the company, really.”

Contrary to what you’d expected him to ask you next, Namjoon wondered, “do you see yourself here in the future?”

Even though he didn’t inquire about your biography outright – “were your parents powerful and influential businessmen as well?” – his question did seem to insinuate that you may start working here purely because of your relationship to the head of the company.

“Maybe,” you replied, realizing how privileged you were to be here when you weren’t even a part of the company yet. “What has it been like, interning here?”

“Oh, it’s been okay. It’s the only company that took me in,” he spoke and you felt yourself exhale in relief after you lost the spotlight. “The others weren’t looking for interns. Or they needed interns with a job experience that spanned more than my college career.”

You scoffed, understanding what he meant very well because you’d been there, too. “How does that make sense?”

“It doesn’t,” Namjoon said with a sigh. “And that’s why I’m here.”

“So, this wasn’t your first choice?” you asked.

“No, but I don’t regret coming here,” he replied. “It’s a nice work environment. The people are very welcoming and helpful, which isn’t something you see a lot of in corporate businesses.”

Sadly, some of the people here weren’t very welcoming in their personal lives, you thought bitterly, remembering Jungkook and his father’s tense relationship. You chose not to mention that, however, because it didn’t seem like the right thing to do.

“I hope you’re not here for work, though,” you said instead, smiling as you watched Namjoon laugh awkwardly and nod at the beef patties on a plate next to the grill.

“No,” he said. “But they did put me on grilling duty – which wasn’t very smart of them, considering how terrible I am around things that can burst into flames – so I do have some hefty responsibilities today.”

You chuckled. “I could help you. I’ve done my fair share of barbecuing when I was growing up. Let me just leave my handbag somewhere—”

“The gazebo over there,” Namjoon pointed at the far end of the camping grounds, “they’ve turned it into a coat room. You could leave it there,” he looked at you and, catching his own eagerness, explained, “I would really appreciate your help. I don’t want my internship to end prematurely because I’d poisoned everyone with my poor cooking.”

Giving him a sympathetic grin, you assured him, “that won’t happen. At least, not on my watch. I’ll be right back!”

As you’d learned once you got back to the grill and started to assist Namjoon – or, allowed him to assist you – Jungkook’s father hadn’t even arrived yet. Him and his wife – according to a very chatty woman who was Namjoon’s supervisor – were supposed to come a little while later and then, following tradition, they would take a picture with the rest of the employees, sit down for a meal, and leave within an hour.

This barbecue may have been a nice social gathering for the employees of his company, but it was strictly a formality for Jungkook’s father.

“Still, it’s nice,” Namjoon said once the woman left you two to finish grilling the sausages and the patties alone, “not many CEOs bother to interact with the lower-rank employees at company events. At least, not in my experience. My dad didn’t even know what his boss looked like and he’d worked for the same company for twenty years.”

“It sounds impossible in today’s day and age, though, with everyone being on social media,” you pointed out.

“Of course. But you don’t always recognize people from social media in real life. So, it’s nice that even I, an intern, have a chance to see the CEO of the company with my own eyes. And maybe even meet him.”

“Hmm, sure,” you nodded with an unconcerned shrug. “It is nice of him, I suppose.”

Namjoon noticed your nonchalance and he knew that the reason why you couldn’t relate to him in this particular situation was because you had nothing to get excited about – you had already met the CEO.

“You said he was a family friend?” Namjoon asked you. “So, you know him quite well, then?”

You paused grilling for a second to look at him but he was watching the food to make sure it didn’t burn. And that was even better, since it gave you more time to come up with an abridged version of your relationship with Jungkook’s father.

“Yeah, uh… my mom and his wife had been best friends growing up,” you said, “and they’re still very close to this day. Now that they’re both married, their families got involved in the friendship, too. He’s always been kind to me but my knowledge of him comes from Jungkook’s point of view, so I’m probably—”

Namjoon finally looked away from the sizzling grill to get you to back up. “Wait, Jungkook?”

“Yeah, we—” you paused, realizing that he wasn’t confused about your friendship with Jungkook but, rather, about Jungkook, being the son – and the heir apparent – of the CEO. “The company—i-it belongs to Jungkook’s father.”

“Oh,” Namjoon mumbled, looking away as this revelation rendered him speechless for a quick minute. “Oh.”

You didn’t know what to make of this “oh”, so you tried to clear the air with a chuckle.

“I, uh—I had thought that was common knowledge on campus,” you said.

“I—maybe it is, I don’t really keep up w-with that,” he admitted. “I just assumed he was popular because of Parental Advisory.”

“He is,” you nodded, “but coming from a rich family probably didn’t hinder his way to the top very much.”

“No,” he snickered, “it probably didn’t. So, uh, is he coming here, too?”

You had picked up a pair of tongs from the folding table nearby and used them to flip the patties before you answered. That was why you didn’t notice how much Namjoon struggled to process this new information. You couldn’t ask him what was it about Jungkook that caused Namjoon to have such a hard time dealing with this news.

“No,” you said, still not looking at him as you focused on the grill. “He’s got a show tonight.”

“Ah, so his band comes first,” Namjoon said in a voice that would have been humorous—in a sarcastic way—if it wasn’t so acidic.

You stopped what you were doing to give the boy next to you a surprised look.

“Well—not necessarily,” you said and then tried to find a way to explain why Jungkook was the way he was without getting into too many unnecessary and overly-complicated details, “he cares about both, but he’s not—he’s got, uh, some issues with—”

“With being civil in front of his father’s employees?” Namjoon interjected sharply.

You blinked. “He—”

“God, sorry,” he blurted suddenly, putting the metal spatula down on the grill before realizing that this wasn’t a good idea and picking it back up again. He sounded exasperated as he tried to take his previous question back, “I don’t know why I’m coming off so angry about this. I was just surprised. I did hear that the CEO had a son who was presumably going to take over the company one day, but I didn’t think it was… you know.”

You didn’t know, but you could guess that Jungkook’s bad reputation preceded him and even people, who claimed not to judge others without getting to know them first, couldn’t help but judge first.

Namjoon sounded disappointed when he talked about him. Worse, he sounded displeased and even choked as he spoke, trying to cover up his own frustration so he could remain impeccably respectful like he always was – or tried to be.

He tried to avoid stereotypes but you’d gotten glimpses of his real attitude at the library when he’d revealed his assumptions about the members of Parental Advisory, guessing – and getting it right – that the members were a “troubled bunch”.

You’d admired his restraint from any further assumptions that could have shown his prejudice. But now his respectfulness irked you because it hid his real feelings and made it almost impossible for you to defend Jungkook without sounding like you were overreacting.

“There’s still a long way before Jungkook can take over,” you said, focusing on the tongs in your hands and the way they clapped with a metallic yelp each time you clicked them together. “He’s working on it and his father definitely isn’t cutting him any slack just because he’s his son.”

“Right, I wasn’t—”

“But you probably know that if you work here,” you continued, yours words coming out in a batch of agitation that Namjoon could not interrupt, “there aren’t any exclusive employees here. Everyone is being treated the same, regardless of their connection to the staff higher up.”

“No, of course!” he exclaimed before you could continue. “I didn’t mean to imply—although, I guess I did imply that he had certain guarantees that other people didn’t, which is true, of course, with him being the son of the CEO. But I didn’t mean to make it sound like he wouldn’t deserve the chief executive position. I’m sure his father wouldn’t give it to him if he didn’t think Jungkook was worth it.”

“Yeah,” you said, swallowing hard. “He wouldn’t.”

Namjoon wasn’t going to say anything else about this – he’d already said too much – but the way you went straight for his throat when he misspoke about Jungkook, shed a new light on your relationship with him. It intrigued Namjoon even if he wasn’t fascinated by you in a romantic sense.

His interest in your relationship with Jungkook was mostly understandable, though – the two of you were so different on the surface, one could only wonder what was it that attracted you to each other.

Well, apparently, there were depths to the reckless lead vocalist of the campus band that Namjoon didn’t know about.

“I’ve heard he treats everyone here like family,” Namjoon said, trying to make his voice sound light as he shifted the topic from the son to the father.

“I’ve heard that, too,” you agreed, your voice still on edge. “The man has a great reputation around here.”

“He’s sort of living up to it, too,” Namjoon said and you saw him nod in the direction of the road that ran along the north side of the camping grounds.

You turned your head to see Jungkook’s father step out of his car, with his wife following after, from the other side. He shook hands with the few people who came to greet him.

He had a wide smile on his face – a smile that you couldn’t remember seeing in a very long time, but now that you did, you realized how similar him and Jungkook were: both of them seemed to lose ten years of their age when they smiled.

“He kind of looks like he’s running a presidential campaign,” you said, observing the scene as Jungkook’s father greeted his employees – some with a good-natured hug, others with a wave.

Namjoon glanced at you and, relieved to see that your mind was no longer lingering on your previous conversation, laughed. “Maybe a bit, yeah.”

Within moments of Jungkook’s father’s arrival, the campgrounds were in an uproar: everyone was busy grilling their last bits of food and arranging it in a way that would look the most appetizing.

The plate of food you and Namjoon had grilled definitely wasn’t the easiest on the eyes, but none of the food seemed under-cooked or burned, so both of you were content with that.

Then, just as you were about to pick the food up and carry it over to the structure tent in the center of the grounds, you were reminded that time for dinner hadn’t arrived yet.

The traditional picture had to come first.

You felt a lot like you did on picture day back at school – with one of the employees ordering everyone around, demanding they squat, scooch closer, smile wider, turn their heads, and move to the back because their clothing is too flashy – and that was what you told Namjoon when the two of you found yourselves standing side-by-side in front of the camera, very close to Jungkook’s father himself.

“I think it’s worse than it was at school,” Namjoon whispered back, glancing at the other employees and their wide smiles, “but, at least, we don’t have to wear uniforms.”

You scoffed. “Yes. Wearing dark red aprons is better.”

“This awful color makes us all more united,” he said, looking over your shoulder and accidentally meeting the eye of his CEO, who was making sure you weren’t standing too far from him, because he considered you to be his guest and, therefore, he had to make sure you received the best treatment. Namjoon figured as much, as he cleared his throat and straightened his posture.

Finally, the photographer – or, actually, the Head of Human Resources with his new Samsung – took the picture, making sure the flash blinded each and every single person posing for him. And then he took another picture. And then another one. And then a few more for good measure.

You thought you’d blinked in all of them but you hoped to never see those pictures anyway. They probably hung them up in the lobby to remind everyone who went into the building that this was a very friendly environment to work in, but the actual employees never really looked at the pictures.

It was almost funny how wrong you were about that.

“Such a pleasure to see you here,” Jungkook’s father said, approaching you as soon as the people broke apart from their designated positions and pretended to mingle while, really, they waited for the director to finish talking and lead them to the main tent for dinner.

“Thank you very much for inviting me,” you said, aware of everyone’s eyes on you as you exchanged a polite and obligatory hug. “It’s a very nice place here.”

“It really is, isn’t it?” he nodded and then, much to your relief, pointed at the tent. “Let’s go have some food, shall we? I’d been saving up my stomach the whole day for this.”

You chuckled and walked next to him towards the plastic table, filled to the brim with various plates of food. There was far too much grilled meat here – it was impossible for everyone to eat it all, no matter how many people were here – but that only seemed to please the CEO.

“Would you like to take a look at the pictures, sir?” the Head of HR approached Jungkook’s father after he noticed that your conversation had ceased.

Based on how carefully he held the treasured Samsung in his hands, you figured that, either the phone had cost several million dollars, or the man was genuinely terrified of Jungkook’s father – which wasn’t unlikely, as you very well knew.

“Oh, of course, of course,” Jungkook’s father said, always so pleasant, and then stopped to take a look at the phone. You weren’t sure if you should have kept walking or stopped as well. And then he solved the dilemma for you by addressing you, “I’m going to forward the picture to Jungkook so he knows what he’s missing.”

“Oh, yes, that’s a great idea,” you said, smiling, even though you knew Jungkook probably wasn’t even going to open the picture.

Funnily enough, you were wrong about that, too.

While you and Jungkook’s father joined the rest of his employees for the barbecue, Jungkook was finishing soundcheck with his bandmates. He checked his phone – like he did after each song – and rolled his eyes when he saw a text from his father instead of from you.

He opened it, though.

He didn’t care much for what his father said – but he had to admit, he’d never seen his father use the winky face emoji before, so that threw him off – but his eyes caught the picture he’d attached and Jungkook pressed on it without a moment’s hesitation.

Skimming over the bright smiles of his father’s employees, he scanned the picture, looking for you.

And he found you.

But not before he found Namjoon standing right next to you.

Much to your surprise, talking to the other employees – even despite the age gap – proved to be a lot of fun. Some of the older ones actually remembered you from when you were little; they recalled you and Jungkook holding onto Jungkook’s mother’s dress as she brought you two along when she came to visit her husband at the company. And the younger employees curiously absorbed everything you told them about your experience at university, sharing their own life stories with you in return.

Because you found yourself having a good time here, you only remembered that you’d left your phone in your handbag – which was across the camping grounds, tucked away in the lonely wooden gazebo – when Jungkook’s father – who was still here, much to everyone’s surprise – decided it was time to pop the champagne.

You excused yourself from the table, promising to return soon because you only meant to retrieve your phone so you could check the time and maybe check in with Jungkook in case his show was over by now.

That was not what ended up happening when you located your handbag under the various expensive jackets that were haphazardly thrown on the bench in the gazebo.

You pulled your phone out to see several missed calls.

None of those missed calls were from Jungkook. In fact, the majority of them came from Inna, which was already weird enough since she’d left campus again this weekend and she never called you. You always texted.

But what truly confused you were the last two missed calls because they were from Yoongi, Jungkook’s bandmate. You’d only talked to Yoongi on the phone once, when you were attempting to get in touch with Jungkook after he missed dinner at his parents’ place, but Yoongi was high back then so you didn’t think he even remembered.

But he did remember, apparently, because, while you stood there, puzzled and a little alarmed, his number lit up on your screen again.

Clearing your throat, you picked up the call. “Hello?”

“Oh, fuck, thank God, you’re here,” Yoongi spoke and, judging from the relief in his voice, he knew very well whom he was talking to. “Is Jungkook with you?”

“Jungkook?” you repeated stupidly. “W-why would he be with me? Don’t you have a show?”

Yoongi laughed, loudly and completely humorlessly. “We do have a show. He was wasted for the most of it.”

A painful bolt of electricity shot through you. “He performed drunk?”

“Doesn’t matter. At least, he performed,” Yoongi said, “that’s before the encore, though. We couldn’t find him. The fucking asshole completely missed the three final songs. We thought he went to see you.”

You felt a pang of guilt even though you had nothing to feel guilty about because Jungkook was most definitely not with you, and he didn’t have a single reason to come see you before he finished the show anyway.

“I-I’m not on campus right now,” you said, running your hand through your hair as you considered what could have happened in the span of the few hours since you left your dorm this morning, after having talked to Jungkook on the phone. “Did you try calling him?”

“Obviously. He’s not picking up. I’m pretty sure he tossed his phone into a fucking lake,” Yoongi said and then, even though he didn’t mean it, he added angrily, “he better be in the lake, too, or else I’ll kill him myself.”

Knowing that the scenario of Jungkook accidentally driving into a lake wasn’t one to be dismissed, you felt your skin shiver.

“I’ll look for him,” you promised, looking back at the celebration in the tent across the field.

“You said you weren’t on campus,” Yoongi said. “Your roommate said she was out, too.”

You weren’t aware that Yoongi had talked to Inna tonight, but that explained the avalanche of missed calls from her. You made a mental note to send her a quick explanatory text message on your way to your dorm.

“I’m coming back,” you told Yoongi, grabbing your bag and making your way back to the rest of the company. “Let me know if he gets in touch with you, though, okay?”

The boy on the other end scoffed. “He won’t. Chances are, he won’t talk to the rest of us for a week after he eventually shows up back home. As if it’s us who fucked up, and not him.”

“Did anything happen?” you asked, still trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. That wasn’t easy when each piece looked drastically different from the next and you had no idea what the full picture was supposed to look like. “Did someone say something to him? Did he get into a fight? Did he—”

“No. Nothing happened. We were—ah, shit, wait, his dad texted him, didn’t he?” Yoongi said but it didn’t sound like he was addressing you. He wasn’t; a moment later, a muffled, “yeah” sounded in the background of the call. Then, Yoongi continued, “yeah, we were finishing up with the soundcheck when he got a text from his dad. He read it and just fucking dipped. When he came back to do the show, he was already struggling on his feet.”

You cursed under your breath before thinking aloud, “his dad is here. I did see him text Jungkook but he was just sending him a picture—could it have been the picture that triggered him?”

“A picture of what?”

“There’s this barbecue that the company organized. His dad invited us both but he stayed back to do the show, so I came alone. We took a picture, everyone who’s here. And his dad sent it to him. Could that be the reason why he—”

“No,” Yoongi said right away, “company dinners—or barbecues, or whatever—doesn’t sound like Jungkook’s thing. He wouldn’t give a fuck about the picture. Unless you took someone there as your plus one?”

“Of course I didn’t. I was supposed to come with him but—oh, fuck.”

You stopped walking, the realization hitting you first, and the absurdity of it following right after.

Namjoon was in the picture next to you. He was just standing there, not even touching you, but was it possible that his appearance in the picture was enough for Jungkook to lose touch with reality?

“Fuck, of course, that’s possible,” you said out loud, almost stomping your feet in frustration like a kid, throwing a tantrum. “Listen, I have to go. I’ll text you if I find him.”

You didn’t hear Yoongi’s response because you were already pulling the phone away from your ear as you returned to the tent. You needed to find a way to leave without raising any suspicions with Jungkook’s father – whom you ran past in a wide semicircle like he was the plague itself – and you figured that the best way to do that would be faking a health emergency.

But for that, you needed to spend another few inconspicuous minutes by the table, looking colorless and uncomfortable. That wasn’t going to be difficult since you did feel light-headed already.

As you waited for the right amount of time to pass before you could leave, you tried texting Jungkook. You even tried calling – thinking you’d have enough time to walk far enough from the table so that’d no one would hear you – but the beeping signal never ceased and you didn’t get to hear Jungkook’s voice.

Right when you bit your lip, trying his number for the fifth time in a row as if the previous four times were just glitches in the system, someone noticed your distress.

“Hey,” Namjoon’s voice sounded by your ear, startling you because he was across the table from you just a second ago. “You okay? You came back to the table, looking very out of it.”

“Namjoon,” you said, your voice so grave, he thought you were about to tell him that the entire campus had burned down while the two of you weren’t there and you were the only suspects. “I need to leave.”

“Did something happen?” he asked, the concern in his voice genuine.

You nodded. “Jungkook got in trouble. I have to go back, b-but I can’t tell his father about any of this.”

You spoke without thinking about your last conversation with Namjoon or how this news could have confirmed Jungkook as a useless waste of space in his eyes. Frankly, in that moment, you couldn’t have cared less about Namjoon’s opinion of Jungkook.

You could have used his help, even if he was going to judge you for it.

“I’m going to call myself a cab,” you said, “but could you please do me a favor, and tell his dad that I’d left because I wasn’t feeling well?”

Namjoon pulled back from your chair and looked across the table to his own seat – his leather jacket resting on the back of the chair – before giving you a nod.

“Let’s go,” he said. You were already standing up but then paused and sat back down, confused.

“What?”

“I’ll drive you back to campus,” he said, “we can leave without saying anything – no one will even notice. And then, when I’m back, I can tell everyone that you weren’t feeling well and that’s why I took you home early.”

“T-that’s very kind, but I can really just—”

“No, let me take you home,” Namjoon insisted as gently as he could, afraid that his forceful tone might remind you of his previous slip-up when you were talking about Jungkook. “It’ll be my way of apologizing for stepping over the line earlier today.”

You considered telling him that he had nothing to apologize for – he didn’t know Jungkook personally and everyone was entitled to their own opinion; you’d just gotten annoyed that he was so quick to hide this opinion under the curtain of fake politeness – but, eventually, the realization that you really didn’t have the time to debate if he should have felt apologetic or not won over, and you nodded.

You needed to get back to campus quickly, even if there was a risk of Jungkook seeing you and Namjoon together again – if that really was the reason why he got drunk and missed the encore of his own show.

“Okay. Let’s go,” you said, finally standing up. “Thank you.”

keep reading | masterlist

#bts reactions #bts college au #jeon jungkook #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook college au #college au #fanfiction #bts angst #bts imagines #angst #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic

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yolkyeomie · 3 years

Text

Improv Game | Yang Jeongin

summary — maybe following the script of what’s ahead isn’t for you and a little bit of improv is all you need to make it better

word count — 1.9k words

pairing — gender neutral!reader x jeongin (ft. x hyunjin)

genre — high school au, transmigration(?) au, fluff, cliff hanger

disclaimer — this is VERY loosely based off of series like Extraordinary You and the awfully popular reincarnation webtoons i’ve seen like… everywhere. I JUST NEEDED SUMN TO WRITE OKAY?

You strained a smile at the boy in front of you, rhythmically tapping your fingers on the desk in hopes that he’d pick up your annoyed undertone. Though to no avail did he notice. He simply took it as your way of attentively listening to him speak and that’s all he would ever take it as, he was rather oblivious after all. You couldn’t exactly blame him for this unfortunate trait of his but you couldn’t stand it either.

“Oh, Y/N, if you don’t mind me asking…,” the boy began, leaning back in his chair as he held onto the desk for support. His eyes wandered from the front of the classroom then to the classroom window where the cherry blossoms were on full display to finally your eyes.

You didn’t mean to make direct eye contact with him but he caught your gaze a lot quicker than you could look away. With a deep sigh you stretched your arms out before turning your genuine attention to him, “What’s up, Hyunjin? Go ahead and spit it out.”

He cleared his throat for the moment, his eyes darting away from your connected gazes before mumbling something out of his mouth. The boy glanced at you to see if you had heard him and when you showed no signs of understanding, he cleaned his throat again. “I said if you’re not busy any time like… I don’t know— tomorrow? If you wanted to hang out? Like go to the park or an arcade or—“

“—like a date?” You questioned, raising a brow in suspicion.

Hyunjin immediately started to crumble, his face flushing a beetroot red and his ears practically steaming from your words. “No, no! Not a date! I would like… never ask you on a date! Unless you want it to be a date…? I mean if you don’t think it’s a date then it’s not a date—!” The boy continued to ramble, nearly forgetting about your existence as he tried to cover himself.

You were in a very… odd situation to say the least. One day you had woken in a room that wasn’t yours, in a house that wasn’t yours, with friends you didn’t know, going to a school you never went to. Only one could imagine the amount of disarray you were in as you tried to traverse the day struggling to get from one place to another when you didn’t have a clue of what was exactly going on.

You thought, maybe if you just get through this day, everything will go back to normal when you wake up again? As if this was all some sort of… dream your mind had created in your slumber.

But alas, that was definitely not the case. You woke up the next day in the nearly same situation you were in before. And the same in the next day, and the day after that. Soon days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. You were still living throughout each day as if you had never really woken up in the unfamiliar at all.

The kicker? You had quickly caught onto the fact that you were within a book, maybe even a comic who knows, and were walking around as the main protagonist. Well, quickly isn’t the right word per say. A week went by as if everything was normal until you interacted with a teacher who had asked for you after school.

The conversation was as normal as any conversation with an adult would go until you looked above their head and saw words in bold quotation marks detailing words that hadn’t been spoken yet. Without thinking, you read them out loud and the teacher responded exactly to what you had read out. You didn’t think anything of it at first until the routine you had adapted yourself to suddenly changed to fit the words you had read to him.

The world was shaping around the detailed actions and words the story was instructing you to take. Sometimes it would be something simple like helping your teachers with their work and other times if quite literally instructing you to get hit with a soccer ball in the face. You didn’t want to follow through when things like the latter were given to you, but they would just happen whether you liked it or not.

Oh and your main love interest? It was Hyunjin. You’d think having someone fated to fall in love with you and vice versa would be interesting and exciting to you, but you weren’t feeling it all.

Don’t get it wrong, Hyunjin is a very nice kid. He’s tall and handsome with a sweet personality, but he just… wasn’t your type? So trying to get your “character” to fall in love with him was hard. Especially when whatever author that was scripting your interactions together made them happen extremely frequently and in rather annoying ways.

Not a day goes by where you can get some peace and quiet. Whenever you thought you’d be free, Hyunjin would always pop up to greet you or keep you company or even pull you to the next step of your growing relationship when you really didn’t want to.

It seemed like the date-that’s-not-really-a-date-but-it-totally-is was the next step into pushing you two closer to each other. It had to be, given the fact that the next sentence that was supposed to come out of your mouth had appeared over his stressed out figure.

You concealed a deep sigh as you placed your hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. The boy immediately stopped in his tracks, turning to face you with wide and curious eyes. You flashed him your best smile possible, “Yes, let’s make it a date.”

The boy nearly popped a vein, blinking rapidly and his cheeks growing warmer and warmer at your answer. “You… Do you really mean it? Like… this wouldn’t be just two friends hanging out— this will be a whole date?”

“Do you even know what the definition of a date is? Of course it’s a whole date!” You recited, watching Hyunjin’s eyes begin to glow and his smile stretching from ear to ear.

A small hum of satisfaction left his lips as he jumped up from his seat, struggling to contact his excitement. “Okay then! It’s… it’s a date?”

“It’s a date.”

“It’s a date!” He exclaimed, catching the attention of nearly the entire class. Luckily it was a free period so you didn’t have to worry about interrupting the class instruction but it was still embarrassing. You practically sunk in your seat and covered your face to the best of your ability as Hyunjin hopped about the room in glee. “Jeongin, Jeongin! You’ll never guess what happened to me!”

Your head immediately shot up upon hearing the name uttered from the boy’s lips, your eyes glued straight onto Hyunjin’s back. The boy was jumping up and down in the door and his back was blocking the view of whoever was in front of him, but you didn’t exactly mind. You simply waited for him to stop moving before finally spotting the familiar dimpled boy in front him, his pretty smile and excited eyes on the main love interest.

Jeongin, the main love interest’s best friend and the device used to move the plot forward, that’s exactly who he was. Minus the fact that you liked Jeongin a lot more than you liked Hyunjin.

Your body so desperately wanted to move on it’s own, your eyes following the boy’s every move as he expressed his delight for the boy’s accomplishments.

The mischievous glint in his eyes every time was mesmerizing, the pretty tone of voice he had was exhilarating, and his unique features almost made him too good to be true. Not to mention how genuinely funny he was without even trying, he was much more your speed than the gullible and kind Hyunjin that you were paired with.

Unfortunately, the story you were placed in would never let Jeongin think of you more than a friend. He just wasn’t scripted that way. While Hyunjin may love you unconditionally because that was his purpose, you didn’t find it as appealing as perhaps a reader or any other normal main protagonist would be.

Plus, you had no idea how exactly you’d be able to break free from the plotline of you and Hyunjin getting together nor did you know what would happen if you did. You had always followed the path that was in front of you without question, the possibility of getting to the end of the story and escaping the book you were in had been the only thing you were reaching for.

But if you strayed from that somehow and got with Jeongin against the author’s wishes, what exactly would that entail for you? Would you still be forced together with Hyunjin? Or would the author somehow eradicate Jeongin’s existence altogether?

Big bold quotes appeared over Jeongin and Hyunjin’s heads, your next scripted words to continue the plot blasted right in your face like flashing headlights. You read them silently to yourself for a moment, glancing from Hyunjin to Jeongin with a skeptical frown on your face.

I can’t wait for tomorrow, Hyunjin!

What a simple phrase to repeat, a normal response in the situation you were in. You and Hyunjin were fated to be with each other, destined to fall in love no matter what odds were against the two of you. But… you just weren’t feeling it honestly. Who would have guessed that the obstacles that stood in between you and Hyunjin becoming a couple was yourself, the main protagonist, after all?

With a deep breath, you stood up from your seat and flagged down Hyunjin and Jeongin to get their attention. Jeongin was the first to notice, catching your moving figure in the corner of his eye and hitting the boy’s shoulder to get his attention. Hyunjin turned around shortly after, his hair whipping in the wind and landing perfectly on his shoulders thanks to his typical love interest privileges.

He smiled at you, his wide and grand smile that should have made any person fall out in adoration. You raised your hand to wave at the boys as you spoke, “Hi… Jeongin.”

Hyunjin’s infatuated gaze fell into one of confusion, his face twisting as he looked back at the friend you had called out to.

Jeongin looked just as confused as Hyunjin, unsure of whether or not he could respond to you. Though it was a little too late to not answer now, you had already made eye contact with each other. Not responding would be seen as rude to his friend’s future partner after all. “Hi, Y/N” He replied, his words seemingly unscripted from what the original author had intended. Perhaps he wasn’t supposed to say a word to you in this scene but that didn’t matter now.

You had taken the first step into straying off the path that was laid out for you since you woke up in this book’s storyline, and now you were going to run for it. Run as fast as you can to change the story to what you wanted, a story where you can have Jeongin all for yourself, and not what the author had intended for you.

After all, you're not the protagonist that the author had intended to write. You are you’re own person with your own wants and desires, you were going to get what you wanted whether the author liked it or not.

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vaguely-concerned · 4 years

Text

X-men Evolution; the great 2021 rewatch liveblog

exactly what it says on the tin, about halfway through the show I had TOO MANY FEELINGS and had to start writing some of them out haha (gets quite gambit & rogue/gambit heavy in the latter half, Because of Who I Am as a Person)

- this is my childhood’s x-men, my formative experience with them, and I’m happy to report that still seems like a good thing. the little eleven year old within me gets to geek out and have a good time with the characters and the surprisingly good animation and writing, adult me gets to CACKLE at regular intervals at the fashion/technology/absolute bonkers hot garbage comic book nonsense they use to justify a storyline every now and then, it’s been a good time

- I was like ‘ah well it is super dated it probably won’t be quite the same now’ and then rogue’s HAIR did the THING in the opening and ‘it’s all coming back to me now’ started playing in the background... the little baby queer in me swooning across time and space

- such a good beast, both his design and the writing, my heart aches for him all the time. he’s just so passionate! about being a teacher! helping young humans learn the stuff they’ll need in life! the most wonderful nerd man, just let good things happen for him

- I’m going to go ahead and assume that rogue’s ‘crush’ on scott is more of a deeply complex psychological process about desiring normalcy and intimacy and trying to figure out if she’s queer and dealing with her emerging sexuality and latching on to the first and best safely unavailable and nonthreatening older boy to project these issues onto rather than actually being a real thing, because I respect her so much as a person and I cannot bring myself to imagine she’s honestly attracted to a man who has POSTERS OF CARS on his bedroom wall. (I’ll give jean a break just because she seems to have a longer deeper history with him that might counteract some of that libido-kill, and also she’s a jock so lol)

like I am very sorry but can u imagine being a teenage girl with any interest in a boy with model cars in his bedroom when gambit’s swanning around being a much, much, much worse choice on almost every possible level but in a teen girl kryptonite kind of way? inconceivable

(I drag scott quite a few times in this and it’s not because I don’t love him, it’s just his tragedy to be the most draggable man in the world)

to be fair by the time gambit shows up that whole Situation has mostly played itself out I suppose but still

- toad’s design is so ineffably brilliant, I can’t quite tell you why but that ugly cute charm has really stuck with me, he’s one of the characters I remembered the best to this day just visually

- poor evan... he truly never had a chance, did he, they just saddled him with the most 90s teen bullshit they could come up with like he’s some kind of ‘what adult writers think teens like’ frankenstein’s monster ;______; it’s not your fault honey

- poor poor POOR storm, she gets one focus episode and they were like ‘we’re going to make an episode so racist -- ‘

I’m still STUNNED at how bad it was, but undeniably I laughed hysterically to the point that my neighbours were probably worried when that dude was earnestly like ‘He [stunningly breathlessly racist caricature of a ‘witch doctor’ guy] has stolen her powers, and he’s going to use them to take over Africa!!!’ fhajsdlfhsakjldfh oh really? tell me more, like how the fUCK this could be on television within my life time fasdlfhsdkjfhsad f just... fahjksdfh

- it’s a testament to gambit’s appeal as a character that his charm can survive what they’ve done with his hair and beard choices in this one fajskfhs regrettable but true I still fuckn LOVE him and in my highly biased yet Correct opinion he should have been around much more. get you a man who manages to stay hot through sheer Vibes even with a bowl cut

- aw scott/jean is kind of sweet in this show even if it’s taking them forEVER to get there, I like it

- it’s very nice of rogue to not mention magneto’s romantic daydreams and nostalgic memories about charles xavier after touching his face that one time... or maybe her brain did her a service and repressed it, there’s some stuff you shouldn’t have to know about your father figure

- the danger room is the very definition of ‘why do we even have that lever’ and I wonder what the fuck prof x does to have enough money to replace everything that gets busted all the time

- I’d say that a lot of the writing holds up surprisingly well! (but some of it is also incredibly inexcusably racist in ways that beggar belief, so... not full marks here) the characters have distinct voices and their arcs are set up and delivered on solidly for the most part, and there’s a lot of love showing through in small moments that are just there to have a funny/interesting thing to say about the characters and how their powers work separately and in combination. listen, sometimes I get so thirsty for like. basic goddamn competency in storytelling, let me have this

- ugggggh why is there captain america in my x-men have I not suffered enough... very very funny when prof x goes ‘sounds like you knew rogers personally’ and logan is like ‘I did ;)’ *all the students ganging up on steve rogers* “did you fuck our teacher, captain america?!”

- fskadfhas WHY are you showing me hot young-ified magneto’s ass fksjahfskj charles is not even here to see it, what a tragic waste erik

- ...I was sort of kidding before but uh I think logan genuinely did fuck captain america (or at least wishes very much that he did lol)

- wanda can have a little watching the world burn. as a treat for the way every single adult in her life has fucking failed her (’aren’t they treating you well here’ professor x she’s in a straightjacket)

- poor rogue tho can you imagine finding out after your biggest crush on a girl yet that she’s your fucking MOM in disguise... I would break out in cold sweat every time I thought about a boob forever after

- well seems like they really just had all that homoerotic rivalry stuff between quicksilver and spyke in their first ep only to never do anything with that again ever?? I mean even without the gay undertone that seems like a dynamic you spent most of an episode setting up writers what the hell haha

- dslhfkasjlh GAMBIT THERE HE IS MY BOY IS ON THE SCENE THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!! I don’t even care about his awful hair situation or the fact that his eyes are wrong here (coloured contact lenses, maybe, for a watsonian explanation? though he’d probably have to get them made special, considering he needs the sclera and the iris covered up in different ways, I’ve seen some comic panels indicating he has been known to?)

(cute little detail: when he shuffles the cards the first time we see him he ends with removing the top card to show the ace of hearts beneath <3 foreshadowing baBEY he’s a... good-ish boy deep down. hey he tries okay shit gets complicated sometimes lol)

- cracking UP at gambit perched cheerily on the edge of a crate dispensing cards in the middle of the battle... he’s like ‘eh it’s a livin’ sfsajkhf remy stop working for supervillains just because you had nothing to do on a thursday afternoon and they said they’d pay you

- I’m guessing magneto must have imposed a strict order of silence on these guys or something because I cannot imagine any other reason for him to shut up, especially once he notices rogue is a QTE (or, far more likely, they hadn’t settled on any voice actors for the new characters until next season haha. it is kind of odd that they’re all keeping up near monastic silence, though, even sabertooth lol)

- WHAT an epic first meeting for us rogue/gambit fans here... first his shadow like there’s fireworks going off behind him lighting him up and then he gives her the fuckn king of hearts and she’s so enchanted by his dumb handsome face she doesn’t even notice it’s about to blow up in her hands and it all happens in heavily meaningful silence afjsdfjashjk no wonder this ship ingrained itself in my hindbrain

yeah look smug while you can remy she’s gonna have you on your knees one day and you’ll be happy about it lol

- god storm is so COOL, everything just fading out of focus when she really gets going... give her more screen time, show!!

- mystique is every person... this person... that person... that bird... that cat... that wolf... I’m not even sure she’s not also me... are you sure she’s not you?

- holy fuck I respect the hell out of the decision to just... blow up the entire status quo in a season ender, I only vaguely remembered that (actually in general I appreciate how good the continuity is -- buildings and places that get damaged in battles need to be repaired or rebuilt, it makes the consequences feel more real even when no one gets seriously hurt. where they get the money to restore scott’s car and logan’s motorbikes every time they go cablooie is still an open question tho lol is it credit card fraud, professor? is it telepathically acquired blackmail???)

- I first watched this when I was nine or so, so it’s a real experience to go from my starry eyed intrigued ‘oh my god... they’re teenagers’ to my horrified adult perspective of ‘oh my god... they’re TEENAGERS D:’

that goes double for the brotherhood boys honestly, I’m here with tears in my eyes like ‘I’m sorry the system has failed you so badly you’re all just a bunch of dumb kids whose caretakers clearly fucked up spectacularly’

like lance is always waiting for mystique to come back because she’s the closest thing he has to a safe parental figure, may we speak about how crushingly depressing that is

- rogue is so ready to throw hands at literally any moment and for that I love and treasure her immensely (I think getting to see her be so surly and unreasonable and sometimes difficult and jealous, like any teenager, meant a lot to me as a kid who was not really allowed to be any of these things, this version of the character has stayed with me so deeply. she holds on so fiercely to her right to feel what she feels and be what she is even when it’s ‘ugly’ or unreasonable, which I think plays in really interestingly with how her powers involve getting invaded by other people’s thoughts and memories to the point of overwhelming her own sense of self and the fact that she clearly has a lot of self-loathing and self-consciousness and confusion about her identity as well. I love her so much)

- oooof this is the ‘the gang experience a microaggression’ episode huh (well more like macroagressions really)

hits a bit different with adult eyes and perspective huh

- hearing jean sound almost like a child when she says ‘that’s so unfair!’ somehow has me like ;______; -- she has to be so adult and responsible all the time, and having her be reduced to the kid she still is and should get to be in front of this awful awful man she could squash like a bug with the flick of a thought... ugh I’m Big Sad (it is funny that jean seemingly plays Every Sport tho djfhaskj)

- MY BOY IS BACK!!! this time with the duster coat and his eyes the right colour, im so happy (too bad about the subdued colour scheme tho; I adore his dumb bright pink getup with my whole heart)

it’s kind of adorable that he takes the time to take the bullies aside and go ‘I know these guys can’t wreck you without getting expelled, but I think you’ll find no law set down by god or man would stop me from doing so whenever I wanted to. so piss off and leave them alone’ lol he’s looking out for them, in his own way

- in this episode: remy lebeau wrangles some kids while looking bored yet mildly amused the whole time. what the fuck does magneto have on you for you to agree to this level of babysitting duty buddy

- fun detail I noticed b/c when I get a fave I hyperfixate: he gave rogue the king of hearts before, but he ‘introduces’ himself to the brotherhood here (lol) with the jack of hearts, probably to symbolize he’s here as someone who works for magneto in this setting and not as his own man? it’s a demotion he’s given himself there, anyway, might be he’s not very pleased about his current position huh

- I like it when rogue and kitty team up, they’re not very effective together but their squabbling is so cute and non-aggressive

- pietro is what draco malfoy would be if I ever found malfoy interesting to watch for even one moment, every time quicksilver talks I’m like ‘what wonderfully insufferable thing is going to come out of your mouth this time you little shit :’)’

- a) why are scott and logan shirtless for this scene? I am not complaining on the logan side of things at least but why and b) I laughed so hard I almost fell off my couch when scott asked logan if he’d ever been in love and he was like ‘once. she was the most beautiful bike I ever saw’ falsdfhaskjfhsakjlfhasklhjfd THE BEST VERSION OF WOLVERINE EVER, ACCEPT NO SUBSTITUTES

- mystique’s sheer dedication to being a petty bitch is kind of inspirational tbh, almost makes me want to go on a completely bonkers and extra crusade of personal revenge myself

- oooh they’re doing some genuinely cool things with vision/lack of vision in this one (it’s the scott left on his own in the desert without glasses one btw) even visually, dang! I’m so sad this show didn’t get more seasons than it did, honestly, it deserved it

- hell yeah jean wreck her, go get your man with the suspiciously specific clothing damage normally done to female characters

awww :’) okay yeah they’re super sweet, I love the tiny loving animation details like how he leans his head against her and her stroking his hair away from his eyes

- nooo don’t bully evan leave my t0tally r4dical sk8er boy alone :(

- I love the running joke of people fleeing in blind panic only to reveal that what they’re running from is kitty’s cheerful well meaning little face fskfaskh

- scott and jean are already peak married after officially being together for one episode and it’s adorable, and they just stone cold threw logan under the bus, rip wolverine we hardly knew ya

fjasdlfasldfhslajdkfhsadkjlfhsdkjalfhsdakfh h jean establishing herself as the alphabitch of this relationship by throwing her man to the wolves right after dsjfhaskjfhaskjhfsakjdhfaskjhfaskdhfskjahfskdajhf get smarter or get volunteered scott

- ...eyepatch lady is so hot ngl

oh evan went to the place hank used to go to calm down ;________; (honestly he’s kind of won a place in my heart just by being a pretty normal teenage boy haha)

- jesus fucking CHRIST can you imagine being storm having to look her sister in the eye as she tells her ‘I lost your only child, he’s *vague gesture* somewhere in the sewers we think’ this poor woman

- amanda the self admitted monster fucker you are so VALID (I love her and her family’s design so much tho!)

- it’s so cool that even in his human ‘disguise’ kurt’s fingers follow the shape of his actual hand beneath it rather than moving like a five fingered hand, it’s such a lovingly consistent little detail

- magneto and mystique in a breathless race to see who can be the shittiest parent... tune in next week for yet another parental nadir (also some low-poly gambit appearances in this one, for those at home keeping score (me), he’s in the background looking like someone drew him with their eyes closed fakjldfhasd look how they massacred my boy)

- someone please teach the brotherhood boys about consent huh

- jean ‘soccer mom before her time’ grey and her SUV dfhakjlhds :’)

- im sobbing rogue baby girl i’m so sorryyyyyy, this voice actress is so good, my parental instincts suddenly kicked into overdrive hearing the crack in her voice :( (bb me was right tho rogue centric episodes ARE the best episodes. that tension between ‘do I identify witn this character or am I crushing on her?? both???’ now has the fun new addition of ‘oh god oh no you are a baby I want to shield you with my body from everything trying to hurt you’)

- mystique is like ‘so you see despite you telling me you never wanted to see me again I completely disrespected that and posed as a friend your age, manipulated you by offering you the mirage of direly needed emotional intimacy and belonging and added some sprinkles of homoerotic tension to it just to massively worsen your already existing grievous psychosexual trauma and identity issues... out of love’

god go jump in a black hole you fucking monster

- there’s some very interesting and quite subtle subtext about the people she’s morphing into and what that says about her mental state/how it shows off some of her emotional baggage with the rest of the team. it’s like she’s switching between people/powers that fit the purpose as if she’s going through cycles of fight/flight (and then bursts of freeze where she’s herself, which is... so sad)

- this whole episode is hurting my heart but rogue at full power is undeniably epic

- ‘professor x get your goddamn act together and get this poor girl some fucking tHERAPY’ challenge

- SAFE PAPA LOGAN ;_____;

- EYYYYYY opening straight on My Lad, I cannot stop winning!!!!!

fasdfhsad disintegrating the window with a smiley face... remy I do love you more than my heart can bear honestly, hello may we speak about the fact that his urge to be a little shit is so deep and strong it survives mind control (that little breathed out ‘hiah!’ as he vaults the fence too dsakfjsd)

hahaha and he does up the coat fhsalfdsaj

- magneto dismissing other telepaths like ‘puh-lease, your Meaningful Looks have got nothing on my ex-husband’s’

- :’) rogue and kurt sibling timeees

- say what you want but this pyro guy’s got job satisfaction in being a creepy arsonist with a weird recurring horse theme (well at least twice but still weird)

- I love how beast is the kindest man to ever walk the earth but also straight up savage, this man drags people so hard their ancestors wince in their graves

- gambit taking the time to complete the guard’s game of solitaire -- this episode is giving me everything I want. u little disgrace mr lebeau

and THEN he takes the spider out in the most hilariously bonkers way my heart is so FULL

(I love that when magneto moves by he looks startled and has to quickly move his head out of the way to avoid getting kicked in the temple too that’s a fun detail)

I’m so INTO how this sequence shows off that his greatest strength isn’t even his powers (which are pretty straightforward, really, he makes go boom, longer time and bigger thing bigger boom) but that he’s clever and creative and always extremely ready to be the most harebrained-bananapants-extra-in-a-deceptively-laidback-sort-of-way person in the room (I actually have some genuinely Deep Thoughts about how his whole character does a really interesting thing with having the straightforwardly destructive nature of his powers yield to what his nature as a person is, and how using the playing cards play (heh) into it, maybe I’ll write it out some day. just the fact that he could use anything, but he deliberately chose something that adds style and playfulness and corny charm to it and that also limits the damage of the explosions compared to if he habitually used something with more mass... I find it fascinating how much he’s made a story around himself with it and how deeply it shows he does have a good heart, at the end of the day, in almost a metatextual way. he doesn’t want to destroy things or people, he’s at worst (and best lol) a thief.)

- I honestly have literally no memory of white nick fury (which seems so weird now isn’t it funny) in this series from when I was a kid, he clearly did not make an impression on me lol

- mr wolverine ‘assigned canadian at birth’ x-men

- oh man I dig the androgynity of x-23′s outfit (even tho they had to compensate with the long hair, which... kind of doesn’t make sense in-universe but does on a design level because it’s a crucial thing that she’s a female clone of logan so yeah okay fine whatever have your arbitrary gender markers if you must haha)

ooooooh that’s actually really clever, they make her gender gradually more obvious as she unravels through the episode and her outfit changes -- first the mask coming off, and then her jacket opening to show her silhouette more clearly, that’s cool!

- my god what really sets this show apart is how much it invests in little character and relationship moments, it’s just so fucking GOOD! it gives laura looking in on those moments such depth and weight because it’s new to her but established to us as an audience, this is how you make found family devastating people (storm growing bonsai trees is so charming too haha)

- ooof this is honestly quite harrowing

SHE’S SO SMALL COMPARED TO HIM I’M CRYING (at least that part of his genes translated over faslkfsjdh short king, I say this with all the love and support of a fellow short monarch)

- tabitha seems to just be running around doing precisely whatever the fuck she wants and you know what I support her even if she is an asshole her father left her a bunch of trauma and no fucks left to give

- still thrilled about professor x explaining the spider key fuckup to magneto after the fact like ‘magnus you dumb bitch this is why we split up’

- awww kitty has anime and movie posters on her wall and sleeps with a stuffed toy :’)

- remy rogue

🤝

doing completely unnecessary parkour around the brotherhood living room seemingly just for the hell of it... I’m not saying soulmates but fucking soulmates

- fhsadkjlfhsakjldfhsadjkfhsdajkfh just as gambit’s soul-level need to be a little shit survived his bout of mind control, rogue’s deep and urgent desire to kiss gambit full on the mouth survived hers I can’t breathe

she looks so pleased with herself too GOOD FOR YOU GIRL at least get something out of this other than more trauma

also not only the fact that he’s smart enough to figure out what’s going on (though he’s only partially right about who’s behind it. I do so enjoy gambit/mystique deep and sincere antipathy as a constant across all universes tho lmao pure wlw/mlm hostility) but also that he keeps fending her off like he’s not trying to hurt her even though she’s in nigh on unstoppable and invulnerable terminator mode... awww

- gambit having absolutely no patience for wolverine and sabertooth’s bullshit macho-off and consistently being this little biker trio’s one brain cell is adding years to my life with every passing moment

his voice is a little different in these scenes too, a bit softer and less like he’s trying to impress someone, it’s nice

- hank: well I barely recognize any of these (completely made up) ‘ancient egyptian hieroglyphs’ but from what I can make out -- *proceeds to infodump a perfect coherent narrative* fjdhfak

listen this whole thing is such nonsense on so many levels, I’m just turning my brain off so I won’t have to think about it okay, the compulsion to put ancient aliens in egypt haunts us as a culture

- I am CACKLING about gambit in the snow after having to listen to these two chucklefucks ooze testosterone at each other for hours

he started out taking it in good cheer and is now reduced to ‘dieu would both of you just jump off this fUCKING mountain please’

- ah. a little oops-a-daisy there, we seem to have unleashed the apocalypse. please stand by (they really don’t pull their punches with the season cliffhangers in this show haha)

- opening the season on gambit’s merrily grinning face is the easiest way to gain my favour. yes good this season may commence

baby u r my

ANGELLLLLLLL

(he’s so cute here tho haha I think it shows the design isn’t unsalvagable, just get him better hair and stubble more like logan has and you’ve basically got it)

love his exasperated eyeroll when the dude gets spooked (by his eyes? or just the general weirdness?) too

he’s just trying to keep this crazy family of evil mutants together and unmurdered by one another until they’ve managed to avert the end of the world, bless him

- oh NO rogue’s LIP wobbles my hhhhhheart ;____; such a good animation detail to put in

- like... I know kurt is just a sad scared teenager with a lot of shit going on and all the adults are too busy averting the end of the world to help him... but buddy maybe don’t ask your sister to wake her abuser (who forced her to kickstart the end of the world!!!!!) when she feels utterly unsafe even with her statue version around huh

- ...wanda is good and I want only good things for her. and for her dad to be disemboweled for what he did to her both the first time around and when he forced her to forget I mean what

- magneto throwing an epic satelite-slinging tantrum b/c ‘no I am the biggest sexiest strongest mutant of the pack :(’... erik fucking get over yourself

- yes boys absolutely go along with a plan suggested by a dude who looks at you like this

nothing bad can come of this surely asdfkhsa

- lance’s quarter of a braincell always trying to go ‘hey wait, maybe... not do this???’ and it never helps lol

- in this episode: Logan Has A Bad Day

...some very specific bondage positions he’s held in here, I am sure this episode awakened something in someone once upon a time lol

- logan shielding x-23 with his body... im fine it’s okay I’m not crying don’t look at me

- afsdhlsdfjasdlk those sure are some ‘scottish’ accents flsadkjhkdsjahfsd

- scott relieved to finally be able to cede the position of ‘charles xavier’s least favourite son’ to someone else fjsaklfhsajd (poor scott it’s not your fault honey)

supremely cowardly to suggest there is an ex-wife involved rather than charles slutting his way around the british isles back in the day but okay

- kurt with a cold is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. it’s okay kid it’ll get better soon

- ...is there an implication here that professor x is naturally blond. because I am losing my entire little mind about it (i mean he at least has to carry the gene, as does this lady?)

ETA: upon doing some research into this I can indeed confirm that charles xavier does seem to be naturally blond, and after this knowledge I will never be the same

- “listen, dracula” fskdafghasd oh scott you sweet baby angel I love you

- I know jean’s abilities are a bit ‘as strong or as weak as the plot needs right now’ at this point (so you can have the setup for what’s going to happen with them eventually and she’s basically invincible ;____;), and normally I’m cool with it but god I want her to just squash lucas like a little bug

- ewwwww please don’t ever say ‘daddy’ like that again

- ...what the fuck is even going on this episode’s a mess

like okay the split personality thing could be something but the way it’s done... what just happened lol

- MY BOY EVAN IS BACK! with a real glowup too (...though kind of weird how he suddenly looks like a grown man)

- augh scott’s eyes are so pretty oh my god ;__________________________;

- that episode in the first season where evan makes the ‘this is my new family!!’ video is so sad now (also, again, his poor poor parents)

- time for: life affirming road trip with gambit (involuntary) faskljdfhaskjd

stunt therapist remy lebeau

- I mean the way he goes about it is batshit insane and it’s very much secondary to what he’s actually up to but this is the first time rogue’s sounded genuinely hopeful and confident and like herself in like a season <3

- he is disconcertingly pleased about her nearly throwing him off the train, and may I just say I agree it’s so nice to see rogue with her old fire back

- the first time I watched this it was of course dubbed into norwegian, so I had no idea either of these characters were southern lol (though to be fair I probably wouldn’t have had much context for what it meant exactly either, I was like ten at the time and not too interested in america) I seem to dimly remember the norwegian voice actor did a little more of a ‘french’-tinged accent for gambit all over tho haha

- you know what respect where it’s due, pyro dude knows to live his life for the lols and one has to admire his sociopathic dedication to it

interesting that he, too, seems to have fucking hated magneto -- I wonder if the implication here is that he kept all the acolytes in line with blackmail or by keeping something/one hostage? (except sabertooth maybe he’d just have to say ‘you get to fuck shit up and fight wolverine’ and that’d be enough)

- fsdakfhsd he’s so focused on her he doesn’t notice that guy about to hit him fkafhsa

- fuck everything else except whatever the hell these two’ve got going on

- it’s weirdly cathartic to have rogue have a conversation with someone who was not happily adopted as well, I don’t think kurt like. gets it because his parents loved him unconditionally and still do

birds of a feather motherfucker

- fun detail: when the x-men team are on the shore and logan is sniffing around scott is stepping in something and trying to wipe it off his boots in the background

- when he wakes up after passing out from the touch he’s smiling even though she’s standing over him looking like the rage of god outlined by the moon fsajfsa well the last time he passed out like that it was from a kiss, maybe he still has some hopes and dreams in that direction lol (also he recovers from the tumble down the hill first and is checking on her before accidentally brushing her cheek with his hand, which I thought was sweet)

and it was in that moment he knew he fucked up *passes out*

- ‘I can explain’ can u remy. can u

- did it ever even occur to you to just. ask her. to help you. I mean I know it didn’t but like rogue’s always one second away from throwing hands with some bully and is stupidly ride or die, if you’d given her the puppydog eyes she would have crumbled immediately (fair enough I guess this entire episode is telling us he’s not from a background where he has much experience with people just helping him without a price haha)

- his eyes glowing when he’s angry or upset or using a lot of his power is undeniably cool as all hell. I’m just saying it would be Big Sexy if they sort of flickered with light in moments of genuine vulnerability okay

- his coat... his coat is what makes the Silhouette tm and I could not be happier about it

- another parent of the year contestant enters the running lol “hey remy have you ever considered that you’re more of a walking bomb factory than a person? that’s certainly how I think of you hahaha c’mon kid let’s go”

- the running joke of jean luc getting dollar signs in his eyes seeing the other mutant powers and gambit being like ‘nO!!!!’ and pulling him along is amazing haha

- from the way he looks when he touches rogue accidentally and the way he talks to his dad I’m sort of getting the feeling this gambit might actually be a bit younger than he looks?

here too -- idk why but it’s making the ‘wait is he baby???’ alarms go off in my head haha. very early twenties at most.

- and we’ve officially seen him with all the face cards in the heart suit folks! (yes this is the sort of thing my brain notices no I don’t know either)

- poor logan running his ass off this whole episode in a panic and then she’s like ‘nah he’s fine (in several meanings of the word ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ) please put him down’ hfaskfsda

- rogue without makeup!!! her eyes look so naked like this haha <3

- oooh here’s a really interesting thing that tickles my brain a bit in this specific part of the scene where gambit frees his dad -- the part where he’s leaning against the door frame waiting for jean luc, who’s about to suggest using the opportunity to ruin the rival gang from the inside rather than slipping away while they still can

from his expression here he knows what’s about to happen, what jean luc is about to say, and it’s clearly a ‘man who thought he’d lost all hope loses last additional bit of hope he didn’t even know he still had’ sort of situation. he KNOWS what jean luc is like, and it still hurts that he really, honestly can’t give him even this, can’t appreciate that remy’s already done all this shit for him when he extremely didn’t have to, without immediately (no really, it took him less than ten seconds to go there? jesus) demanding more.

remy tells him “I’m just here for you” and jean luc does not understand it. remy seems to be sincere in this motivation -- rogue certainly thinks so, having experienced it second hand and found enough at least emotional merit in it to decide he was worth saving even after all his bullshit (lol a bit of a running theme maybe. I think it’s very telling that after she absorbed mystique she was like ‘what the FUCK you’re a fucking monster’, and after she absorbed gambit she went ‘you did the wrong thing for the right reasons’ after she got over the first wave of outrage)

there’s also what he says as he stands there: “You don’t need me for that”, with the distinct implication that jean luc would only keep him around because he has a use for him and for no other reason -- and then jean luc shamelessly doubles down on that by specifying that it’s not even him he’s got a use for as such, just his powers. that’s some kicking puppies level of deliberately missing the point, it’s almost impressive in how cheerfully mean it is haha

this idea of using people is really important in this episode because remy’s doing basically exactly the same thing to rogue to begin with; it doesn’t really matter to his plan that it’s her that’s with him through this, just what her powers are. (I think it’s p r e t t y solidly implied that he does actually like her a lot outside of that too and maybe there is some comfort in having her around for this, but mostly he’s behind a smokescreen of lies through the whole thing sooo I doubt he’s even aware of it, honestly)

but then it does matter that it’s her when she comes back for him, even after what he did. and unlike jean luc he understands what that means, that she did that for him, and that she didn’t have to. and instead of asking her for more, in return he gives her the thing it’s been established is what he considers the most valuable thing he has; his ‘last card’, the thing he’s credited with keeping him alive many a time, basically. it’s gone from using to mutuality, a tentative place of friendship, and at the end of the day he is a different man than his adoptive father, with a capacity for selflessness and love he lacks. which is of course some of the same stuff going on with rogue and mystique too, except rogue acted from a more fragile and unstable place and did something she regrets, or at least has a LOT of doubts about now, and she found some catharsis in helping someone make a different choice in a similar situation. man there’s some Stuff going on under the surface here haha

(by the way it’s a weirdly... meaningless yet intensely meaningful thing, the gifting of a symbol? of an idea? but he’s putting something very crucial of himself into her hands, is the subtext, and he expects her to understand, which she also does seem to do. at the beginning of the episode he’s proving that he’s seen something true about her -- “You’re such an unhappy girl”, knowing where she comes from, the way she’s mourning her lost confidence and autonomy with her abilities -- and here she’s proving she’s seen something true about him. :’) I wish this show had gone on long enough for this dynamic to progress, it’s really interesting and touching)

- gambit dragging himself up onto dry land seeing someone approaching (to help?!): :D

gambit seeing that it’s logan and the look on his face: D:

- rogue using her powers so confidently and fearlessly in this episode tho!!!!

- *me crying* and then her FAMBILY comes to take her home and he says he’s looking out for her too and kurt still loves her even though they’re having a conflict thing between them and she’s finally able to use her powers without so much fear again and --

- ...did I just watch some baby lesbian love at first sight shit right now???

- okay last two episodes let’s go

- HELL YEAH STORM (I love that she’s like ‘don’t give me a dumb order like that and I won’t have to disobey it’ too sdfjsaj) her voice has such command I’m usually very much not the ‘step on me’ type butttt

- y’know I feel like apocalypse’s main fault across all versions I’ve seen of him is that he’s like an immortal superpowered god king and he’s not even sexy. like at least make him hot if he’s going to be insufferable in every other way

- also callout post for apocalypse: one time he made gambit into the Horseman of Death... and didn’t even make him sexy!!! you were handed remy lebeau, supreme bi disaster slut of the x men universe, and you couldn’t even make his brainwashed superpowered evil side hot?? a beautiful stubbled twunk with glowing red eyes and extremely charming :> face practically delivers himself into your hands and you do that to him???? I mean I’m sure apocalypse did some other bad stuff too but that was the worst one

(comics are so dumb y’all)

- having to watch jean cry is emotional terrorism!! ;___; she has such older sister/mom energy, whenever she gets sad and helpless it hurts

- oh, OH so PROFESSOR X you’ll make into a hunk and ~*strategically*~ rip his clothes to show off a nipple and a flawless pec in a way that makes me extremely uncomfortable because he’s like The Dad??? apocalypse you are rotten to the core this is unforgivable

- so wait wanda never actually gets her real memories back. what the FuCk I hope that was a dropped storyline because they ended the show tragically prematurely rather than like. the plan

- why is spyke calling storm ‘storm’ show that’s his auntie o!! >:(

- as a society we need to acknowledge that apocalypse looks like a fucking clown

- ooooh yeah I have been thinking that this show’s greatest visual weakness so far has been not having a visual way to show telepathy/battles of the minds, but this is a pretty cool way to do it! better late than never

- I’m so happy rogue gets to end this herself, since she was forced into starting it against her will, it’s just nice and neat storytelling

- YEAH FUCKING TELL HER KURT AND ROGUE I AM SO PROUD OF YOU and she has the temerity to look pissed off oh my god

the only valid thing mystique has done in her entire life is be in love with destiny. literally everything else she gets up to is a travesty. like I know objectively she’s hot but my loathing for her stops me from even appreciating it. I do enjoy loathing her tho so please don’t change her haha

(a bit odd to have kurt’s attitude to her swing so much but I’m just going to assume he and rogue had a good long conversation after ‘cajun spice’ and that he understands what’s going on better now)

- this last part is such a cruel tease faskdfhsdaj ‘here are all the cool-ass things we had planned. sucks you never get to see it huh’ im devastated

- magneto without his helmet and playing charmingly with children like charles is going ‘well at least I saved my marriage finally’ fsadkhfjsd (honestly tho I would be super interested in seeing how they’d redeem this magneto because he’s been a real bitch the whole time lol)

there’s an interesting thing here where magneto looks down at wanda as the last thing he does on screen before this epilogue part (yeah I hope it fucking haunts you forever what you did to her erik you absolute piece of hot garbage) and the last thing charles does is look at jean b/c he knows what’s going to happen to her and it breaks his heart... Dramatic Parallells

- just the hint of jean as the phoenix has me in full D:D:D: mode tho maybe I wouldn’t have survived it

- gambit in the last groupshot with his arm around rogue ;^) I mean I’m sure they’re headed for some turns and roundabouts along the way but what’s that thing she says as her wedding vow, that she’ll always find her way back? anyway that got me in my heart

- man I really wish this show had been given more seasons, we were barely even getting warmed up here :’(

#x men evolution #x men #gambit #rogue x gambit #aaah this is like therapy for me... just dumping all my emotions into a tumblr post and then let them go into the ether #I am now wondering if I'm desperate enough to go all the way back to the x-men animated series (which I've never seen before!)#like am I willing to go there for more Contente. time will tell I suppose #happy tag #...this is very long #MAN why can't I channel this dumbass energy into fiction writing I'd get so much DONE

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thewayshedreamed · 4 years

Text

Death Dance

Thank you for the prompt submission, Nonnie! I really liked this one.

Prompt: Can u write a Nessian fic involving Cassian seeing Nesta with her hair down for the first time? 🙏

A/N: This starts with an excerpt from A Court of Wings and Ruin, page 408. That scene was my inspiration for this prompt <3

acotar masterlist

——————————————————————————

Cassian had been born for this—these fields, this chaos and brutality and calculation.

He didn’t stop moving, seemed to know where every opponent fought both ahead and behind, seemed to breathe in the flow of the battle around him. He even let his Siphons’ shield drop—to get close, to feel the impact of the arrows that he took in that ebony shield. If he slammed that shield into a soldier, his other arm was already swinging his sword at the next opponent.

I’d never seen anything like it—the skill and precision. It was like a dance.

I must have said it aloud because Mor replied, “For him, that’s what battle is. A symphony.”

Her eyes did not stray from Cassian’s death-dance.

------

“STOP!” Cassian bellowed.

At his instruction, the clashes of steel ceased. Two flaps of his grand wings, and he was airborne, traveling the 100 or so yards to where Nesta stood. He landed firmly on the ground in front of her, sending vibrations through the earth beneath her feet. His brow was furrowed, nostrils flared, and his shoulders were tense as he assessed her.

“Problem, Commander?” she asked him dryly.

He huffed a breath through his nose, squaring his shoulders for the verbal sparring that he knew was coming.

“Nesta, who was your target?” he demanded.

“Cassian, I don’t understand the problem. You have trained me for battle, shaped my skills into what they are. Now, you scold me for employing them?”

It was true. The General Commander had started training her all those months ago, refining her physical competencies in battle as well as her strategy. Although resistant to his help when they originally arrived in Illyria, Nesta had been a talented pupil, her skills increasing at an exponential rate. Her wit and propensity for strategy served her well, and her mental tenacity helped fuel her progress through her lessons in technique.

Today was a day of group trainings, including battle drills designed to expose the legions to various strategies and threats alike. Nesta woke with an excitement on drill days, the opportunity to practice her skills pulling her from her bed earlier than any other day. She came alive in combat scenarios, as they allowed her to employ her newly honed skills without giving her the time to ruminate too much over which strategies to utilize. Only times of crisis were strong enough to compete with the brutality of her thoughts.

Additionally, she felt a compulsion to never find herself in another situation like the war with Hybern.

“Your skills are fine, and you know it. But you aren’t alone, Nesta.” His wings twitched, exposing his irritation. His voice was all rasp and intense focus; nothing of the pure and genuine male that existed off the battlefield.

“I’m fully aware, but I was disarming them easily. I don’t see why I shouldn’t take care of it.” She tossed her long braid over her shoulder, the end of it landing on her leathers just above the small of her back with a soft slap.

“You are engaging every enemy, but they are not your intended target. You need to evade them and allow your legion to support you as you move,” he reminded her firmly. “So I ask you again, who was your target?”

“How am I supposed to make peace with leaving my comrades behind me, unsure of their fate?” she spat.

His nostrils flared, his patience fraying by the second. “You have a responsibility to ensure your specific skill set is where it needs to be when it needs to be there. You are not a hero for clearing the field ahead of them, only to exhaust yourself prematurely or get yourself killed,” he seethed. “Your death leaves them unprepared for your intended target and increases the odds that they die as well.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek as she considered his words.

“So should I have left you there, too? Bleeding out on that battlefield?” she hissed.

He recoiled as if she struck him, obviously surprised to hear her mention the moment they shared during the battle with Hybern. This was the first and only time she had done so.

He took a deep breath before he spoke. “Who,” he asked through clenched teeth, “was your target?”

“You,” she said through a snarl.

“Correct. Move through this field, allow your fellow soldiers to support you. Save your energy for when you get to me.” he ordered, leaving no room for protest. He took off without waiting for her reply, the wind from his wings blowing back the loose strands of hair around her face.

He repositioned himself in the target location, his shield in place. Once he lowered it, they were to begin. Nesta fell in line with the other soldiers, steeling herself for when that red shield disappeared. She was still angry, but she felt a sense of calm wash over her as her focus shifted. Cassian waited for the opposing soldiers to move to their positions, then he dropped the shield.

Nesta ran, opting to pull a long dagger from the sheath along her thigh rather than pulling the sword from across her back. She knew she could move faster without the weight of the sword in her hand, and if she were meant to evade those she confronted, she felt her dagger would lend enough defense until another soldier arrived.

She never imagined that she would feel so at home on a battlefield, that these drills would become almost therapeutic. She moved forward, deftly knocking her first opponent off their center of gravity and causing them to stumble. She didn’t hesitate to move forward as instructed, daring to glance back quickly to make sure she wasn’t being followed. She was pleased to see her comrade engage the soldier, halting any plans they may have had to pursue Nesta.

She slipped into an eerie sort of calm, evading soldier after solder in her pursuit of Cassian. She could see him where he stood, waiting. She’d yet to best him in combat, and honestly didn’t hold that expectation in the absence of using magic, but she knew she was being assessed purely on her ability to get to where he was. She continued to move, only glancing back when absolutely necessary, and she was filled with a sense of honor that her back was covered every time.

She continued to feel a certain serenity surround her as she moved from one opponent to the next. She glided through them with grace and precision; as if she had learned this battle as choreography. After successfully blocking the blows targeted at her, she was already extending her dagger to the next, carrying herself through the field. There was a certain rhythm thrumming through her; her heartbeat akin to the cadence of a battle drum. She let it guide her and propel her forward, tugging her closer and closer to her target. She let it pace her, her footfalls coordinating in time with the fall of her daggers and her transitions between soldiers. Her movements came together in perfect harmony, an art form all their own.

She moved so briskly through her opponent's forces that her last obstacle to Cassian seemed to be caught off-guard by her arrival. She had him disarmed in less than a minute, promptly turning to lock eyes with the Illyrian warrior that awaited her.

He met her gaze with sheer focus, finally raising a scarred brow to her in challenge. She felt it like a blow straight to her chest; felt compelled to make her way to him. The steady beat of that battle drum pulled her once again, urging her feet forward toward the General Commander. She meant to break into a full run, but she felt a sharp tug on her long braid, snapping her head backward.

She risked a small glance at who held her. She didn't rotate her body being that she was unsure of how much that would compromise her ability to evade the attacker, but she turned her head to the side and dared a peripheral look their way.

The very last solider she'd disarmed had managed to grab hold of her braid, almost all the way at the bottom, near her lower back. She cursed herself for opting to wear it this way rather than her usual crown braid, but it seemed like an incredible amount of work for an activity that provided minimal appreciation for intricate braiding.

She saw her ally engaging with the enemy who was gripping her hair, so she knew it was not their failure to cover her that got her in this position. She had likely stopped too soon, not allowing enough distance to be created between them before pausing to assess Cassian. In those seconds, the soldier had regained access to his weapon and reached for her. It didn't surprise her, considering who had trained him. Even small opportunities could change the direction of a war, and he capitalized on her misstep in a way she had to respect, if she were honest.

All of these things burst through her brain within a couple of seconds before she started to scan it for a possible solution. Had she ever learned how to get someone to release her without getting hurt or killed in the process? The thought was pointless, because even if she had, it wasn't serving her at the moment.

And so, she moved.

— — —

From the second Cassian had lowered his red shield, his eyes were glued to the female meant to engage him at the end of her pursuit. She had arrived in Illyria with almost no skills and even fewer battle instincts, but when he had introduced her to training, she came alive. The idea that wars were ever fought without women like her was almost comical to him as he watch her graceful figure glide straight through enemy lines.

He couldn't, nor would be, discount her improvement or her skills in general. She had worked tirelessly for months, never wanting to find herself in a position similar to the day she was Made. She was strong, beautiful, and lethal with the blade in her hand. It was almost as if she were always intended for this.

He was relieved to see that she had taken his feedback into consideration rather than engaging every single soldier in hand-to-hand combat to spite him. It wouldn't have surprised him if she had being that she loved nothing more than to irritate him, but he felt touched at how seriously she was taking her training.

He watched her move through the crowd, entranced by her movements. He stood with his arms crossed, shield and Illyrian blade across his back, assessing Nesta and the others. Her team was supporting her beautifully, and he couldn't fight the smallest smile that pulled at the corner of his mouth. She was almost to him now, disarming the man in front of her and pausing to look his way. He had just schooled his face into one of neutrality, thank the Cauldron, but his expressive brow quirked up of its own accord as he continued to monitor her.

That is, until the very last opponent she faced resorted to cheap shots, latching onto Nesta's hair. He gripped it as if she were the personification of his pride, floating away from him on the wind. He held a firm grip down at the bottom, yanking her head backward in the process. It took every ounce of his training to fight the vicious snarl that threatened to erupt out of him at seeing someone touch her in such a way. She paused, but she wasn't motionless for long.

Cassian knew his eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape as he watched in disbelief. As fast as lightning, Nesta turned on her heel, blade in hand. The Illyrian steel went through her thick braid like a knife through warm butter, sending the offender stumbling back.

Her golden strands unraveled as she whipped around and broke into a full run toward where Cassian stood. Her hair billowed around her face, framing it in a way that took his breath away. His breath was suddenly ragged, heart pounding through his chest as she ran toward him. When her steel blue eyes raised to meet his hazel ones, he had to take a step back and steady himself from the blow of emotions that roiled through him.

He knew it then, had suspected it for some time. That one word that changed everything, and by the way her eyes widened slightly, he suspected she knew it, too. She was almost to him; had already prepared the daggers in her hands to ensure she was ready whenever he deigned to attack.

Before entertaining a coherent thought about his actions, he raised his right hand in front of him, palm toward her. She slowed to a halt about 6 feet away from him, the look in her eyes a combination of determination, frustration, and something else altogether. He couldn't breathe.

He could see his own chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, his blood singing to close the distance between them. He wanted to lie to himself and claim the call of battle as the reason for his compulsion. Battle, however, was the last thing on his mind.

The wind circled the both of them, and Cassian thanked the Mother for the soothing gesture across his wings. His blood was raging, sweat pouring along the inside of his training leathers. His wings twitched with anxious energy as he continued to look at her.

Her hair was blowing around her face, a few strands slanting across it. She was a vision, the strands looking as if they were perfectly placed to frame her delicate features. Her blue eyes bore into him, made even more stunning by the contrast of the brown whipping around them. He was both angry and relieved that he'd never seen her this way before. Had he, he would have never been able to train her properly, her hair and beauty wonderfully distracting. She was the one to break the silence.

"What now, Cassian?" she scowled. "I've made it, haven't I?"

Her voice was much quieter than before the drill, almost breathy. She was looking intensely at him, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. He tracked her movements as she ran her hand through her strands, from her forehead to the crown of her head, to attempt smoothing them.

"Nesta." he managed, his voice a whisper.

She continued to look at him, that unidentifiable emotion worn all over her beautiful face.

He swallowed thickly, forcing himself to say what he needed to through his nerves.

"You're my mate."

——————————————————————————

If you’d like to be tagged in any of my fics, please send me an ask, a message, leave a comment, or reblog! I’ll be happy to add you!

[And, if I’ve left you off my list unintentionally, please don’t hesitate to remind me! No offense taken!]

Feel free to keep the prompts coming, and let me know if you have a particular pairing or mood in mind ☺️

Tags (Masterlist):

@polireader // @justgiu12 // @hizqueen4life // @sis-it-dont-add-up // @b00kworm // @bookstantrash // @gisellefigue08 // @maastrash // @superspiritfestival // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @sayosdreams // @ladywitchling // @keshavomit // @over300books

#nessian #nessian fanfic #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #twsd fics #twsd writes #prompts

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cinnamoday · 4 years

Text

the second star to the right

kalim al-asim

female reader

semi angst

peter pan au

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

“Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting.”

“heave-ho!” the loud thump sound made its way to your ears as you jolted awake, scared for what you might witness. was it a burglar? a kidnapper? it made you paranoid how your inner questions were left unanswered as you slowly grabbed a hard-covered book from your night desk to attack the intruder. at the corner of your room, you caught a glimpse of a boy snooping around, as if he was looking for something.

you stayed in bed, waiting for him to do something. if he really was a kidnapper, you would hit him with the book. there wasn’t much to steal here- it was practically a library, so you didn’t mind if he stole anything, really. you started to calm down until his figure crept up to the foot of your bed. oh, this ruffian is really asking for it. you thought to yourself, mentally smirking and applauding his bravery. as soon as you saw his face being illuminated due to your night lamp, you halted.

“ah! you were here!” the boy exclaimed, scurrying away from your bed. you raised a brow, confused. what in god’s name was he looking for that he didn’t deduce that there might be a person in the room? “may i help you?” despite the strange boy dressed in odd clothing literally breaking an entry in your humble abode, you spoke in a polite manner out of habit. the white haired boy looked up, his garnet red eyes pierced through you, causing you to get lost in the shining orbs.

shaking your head, you furrowed your eyebrows and casted a glare towards him, “i asked, may i help you?” you repeated, this time in a more threatening tone. the boy gulped at your sudden change of attitude and stood up straight, clearing his throat, “you don’t know me?” you mentally rolled your eyes. “this is preposterous. i wouldn’t associate myself with someone that would enter people’s bedrooms without permission! you’re basically trespassing!” you scolded the young boy, in spite of the fact that he might be about your age if he were a tad taller.

“mm, i see. you’re one of the few who haven’t heard of me,” the boy deduced proudly. you inwardly sigh, awaiting his excuse of why he was in your bedroom in the first place and how he even got to the top floor without the use of a rope or a ladder. you were, in fact, at least curious to hear how. “my name’s kalim! kalim al-asim. and you?” you frowned and crossed your arms, “y/n. y/n l/n.” you deadpanned. kalim flinched at your uninterested yet stern tone and nervously whistled comically. “aha,” he started, “you see, i’m looking for my shadow! its been escaping my clutches recently and i have trouble finding it.” kalim sighed, scratching the back of his neck at the thought that he could’ve had the wrong house- again.

you were bewildered, to say the least. what a ludicrous story. “i don’t believe you.” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose due to annoyance. kalim bit his lower lip, full of pride. “but i am telling the truth! maybe it’s because you’re a grown up that you don’t get it.” okay, now you were offended. did you look old for your age? must be the eye bags, you thought to yourself but brushed off the offensive statement coming from this boy’s mouth and glared daggers at him. “fine, fine. perhaps you had gotten the wrong address? there are thousands of locations where your ‘shadow’ could be lingering around in london.” you suggested, sarcasm dripping from your voice when you said the word “shadow.”

kalim stared at you for a solid minute before turning his attention to the bookshelf near your door. you raised an eyebrow at the area he was focused on and flinched when he jumped towards your bookshelf, knocking all the pieces of literature down as well as its container. you bit your lip upon the shelf making a loud sound, possibly waking everyone up. “kalim!” you hissed silently as he strangled a black figure. your eyes widened. my word, he was telling the truth... your mouth opened from shock, eyes not believing what they were seeing.

“i told you, miss! my shadow must be here!” kalim stated proudly as he proceeded to continue strangling the strange, black form. you got out of bed and walked up to kalim, staring at the shadow in awe. how peculiar it was, the shadow being separated from its beholder. “how are you gonna put it back on?” you asked kalim, your eyes not removing its glance from the shadow. kalim thought for a moment, “soap?” you broke your gaze and stared at kalim strangely. did anybody teach this boy some logic?

sighing, you motioned kalim to sit on your bed while you look for your sewing kit. you hate to admit it, but your sewing skills weren’t as praised as your sister. they said that she had talent while you had the looks but you weren’t sure how to feel about that. brushing off the negative thoughts, you grabbed kalim’s shadow by the foot and started to sew it beneath kalim’s shoes, which were surprisingly barely dirty. did this guy use new pairs of shoes?

after sewing the shadow back on, you huffed and stood up, admiring your work. kalim grinned from ear to ear and jumped up, which caused him to float a bit in your room. you could not believe this. how is this even possible?! kalim is flying. flying in your very room with no strings attached- literally.

“thank you, miss!” kalim laughed, still flying around your room in joy. you sigh before crawling back to your bed and underneath the warm covers. kalim noticed how you weren’t as happy and flew above you. “what’s wrong, miss?” kalim asked, his eyes gleamed with concern. it has been years since you saw eyes that contained genuine concern for you. “nothing. shouldn’t you be going along your merry way?” you asked, voice muffled to kalim due to the covers. kalim hummed before shaking you and pointing to your knocked over bookshelf. “what about it? are you going to clean it up?” kalim gasped and shook his head, “cleaning is for grown ups! i was going to ask about the books you read!”

you were confused. no one was ever interested in you nor what you read. it felt... refreshing to say the least. you glanced tiredly at the scattered books on your wooden floor and sighed. “do you want me to lend you some? i don’t really mind if we don’t meet again and you never return it.” you let out a sigh as you escape the warmth of your bed and walked to the books, picking up some stories that kalim might find interesting, despite his knowledge that, you believed, didn’t exist. no offense.

“hm, i suppose this book might be to your liking? oh, and this too,” before you knew it, you were carrying a stack of possibly five books and handed it over to kalim. they were all fairytales that you read when you were a child and you only ever read the said books whenever you had nothing else to do. they were short lived entertainment. kalim’s eyes practically sparkled when he saw the covers of the books. they were pretty appealing to the eyes of children- not that kalim was one but he sure acted like a child.

“thank you so much, miss! i’ll read this to the lost boys and return it!” kalim giggled before grabbing them from your arms and flying upwards. “you do know that you can just call me y/n, right? we’re practically the same age.” you stated, trying to get through to kalim. miss was too formal and you weren’t used to it at all. kalim raised an eyebrow, “hm, yes we may be the same age but you act like an adult. you’re too mature, which is why i think its more appropriate if i call you miss!” preposterous. absolutely preposterous. were you that serious? you always were told that you were more mature than your sister.

“that speaks for you as well, though!” you spoke, defensive. you didn’t even know why you were arguing with kalim at this point. it was all child’s play. kalim watched with sparkling orbs as you tried to defend your statement. “how so?” kalim urged, trying to get you to break out of your shell. you flinched. was this boy even thinking straight? “you said we’re the same age, yet you act like a mere six-year-old!” you silently yelled, taking note of your family still asleep. “are you still mature for your age miss? you just uselessly argued with me over an immature topic.” you bit the inside of your cheek before sighing. although, that statement was the most mature thing that came out of kalim’s mouth since the moment he met you. “you should leave.” kalim laughed before nodding, “good night, miss! please continue to believe in me!” and with that being said, kalim hopped outside of your window and flew to god know’s where.

this must be a dream.

the next night, kalim came back (much to your surprise). you hate to admit it but you kind of missed him- despite the fact that he was annoying you last night. he kept his word and returned the next night to bring back the books you lended him. “miss, the lost boys love it!” kalim exclaimed, sitting comfortably on the edge of your bed. you were pretty confused as to who these lost boys were. “okay, tell me: who exactly are the lost boys?” you wanted answers. were they literally lost and kalim takes care of them? kalim blinked a few times before chuckling, “they’re boys who weren’t claimed by their parents,” kalim sighed, running a hand through his hair, “i took them to neverland so they could have a place to stay- i’m practically their parent!” kalim added, as though he was proud.

meanwhile, you were still confused. weren’t children who parents didn’t want sent to the orphanage? how did kalim come across them? surely he wasn’t targeting them from the moment they were born, right? letting out another tired sigh, you stared at kalim, “so, you take care of them?” kalim nodded excitedly, eager to talk more about the lost boys. “yes. but, hmm, they still need a mom,” kalim thought out loud. now you were cautious. was he referring to you? “oh, i got it! you can be the mom!” kalim announced, getting closer to you. you flinched, “what? why?” you asked as kalim giggled, “because you’re mature and you’re a girl, right?” the white haired boy tilted his head to the side. you sighed, “i’m not going to be a mother! we’re both seventeen-years-old! i’m too young!”

“in neverland, you can be whoever you want! you can be older there!” okay, was this guy actually a twenty-year-old in disguise? he’s using that tactic kidnappers use. “no. i’m not going anywhere.” it’s not like you can if you wanted to. you’re bound in this house by your parents. kalim whined like a child, “aw, fine,” he huffed, “how about giving me some more stories?” kalim looked at you with anticipation. you narrowed your gaze and darted your eyes towards the bookshelf that was neatly arranged, unlike the messy state it was in the previous night.

“wait, before that- i want to talk to you about the book i read.” okay, now you were interested. you wanted to see how this kid thought of the fairytales. since all that neverland talk was probably real, he most likely hasn’t had any children’s books. yes, you asked your parents about him and they told you stories. “hm, what about it?” you queried, not looking up from the novel you were reading. it’s not that you didn’t want to come off as rude, it’s just that you hated eye contact when participating in a conversation.

“well, in this one scene, the prince pressed his lips on the princess’ and she came back to life!” kalim explained, making exaggerated hand motions that you didn’t even want to see clearly. oh. oh dear lord. is he gonna ask you what’s a- “so i was thinking to myself, that word is called a ‘kiss’, right? can you show me?” you flinched and closed your book out of shock. this boy cannot be real, can he? how was he raised? “uh, i don’t think it’s appropriate for me to tell you...” you trailed off, voice getting quiet and face flushed from embarrassment. “eh? why not?” kalim whined, tugging on the sleeve of your night gown. “b-because only people who love each other get to k-kiss.” oh for pete’s sake, you scolded yourself. keep it together, y/n. you sound like a high school student being taught how babies were made.

“huh? but i love you, miss!” okay, now you were sure he wasn’t being serious. “no, you don’t. you’re just saying that.” you sighed, gently slapping both of your cheeks to calm them down. “i do! i’ll prove it to you if i liked that kiss!” the way he was throwing the word kiss around made you even more embarrassed. you were considering kissing him on the cheek but that idea was thrown out of the window the more he mentioned the said word.

“fine, i’ll give you a kiss!” you hissed, turning your head away from him. “close your eyes first...” you mumbled, grabbing something from your drawer. kalim’s eyelids had been shut, a small smile playing on his soft looking lips as he waited for the “kiss.” you bit your lower lip and gently poked the pin cushion to his cheeks, face a bright red. “was that it?” kalim piqued up, sounding a little disappointed. he then opened his eyes and saw the pin cushion pressing his cheeks.

“what! miss, that wasn’t a kiss!” he complained. you laughed before withdrawing back your extended arm, “i told you- only people who love each other can kiss!” you explained, face still tinted with a blush. “hm, fine, but i’ll definitely make you love me!”

oh thank god, he finally understands. you let out a sigh of relief, taking his statement light heartedly. “i still want that kiss, miss...” kalim pouted, fiddling with his fingers. you sighed and ran a hand through your hair, pecking him quickly on the lips. wait- you were supposed to kiss him on the cheek only! kalim flinched at the contact and let out a hot breath which fanned your face as you pulled away. “... can you do that again?” kalim whispered, staring at your e/c orbs. his face illuminated by the warm light of the lamp. he was actually pretty tolerable in this state. “n-no, i’’m going to bed-”

kalim hastily grabbed you by the shoulders and kissed you again, but the kiss lasted longer than the last one. you squeezed your eyes shut, not knowing when he would stop as you were desperate for air. your face felt hot as kalim pulled away, a smile on his lips. “good night, miss. continue to believe in me.”

almost every night, kalim would come by your house. on this particular night, however, you needed him. you needed someone to talk to- someone who would listen. kalim immediately noticed how you weren’t your usual self who would playfully punch him or would flare up when he flirted with you. “what’s wrong, miss?” you two were on the roof top this time- you wanted to get away from all the problems for even just a short while and find comfort in the stars.

“nothing.” you said abruptly. you couldn’t tell him, no matter how much you wanted to. kalim noticed your tone. it wasn’t harsh. he decided to let the topic go and give you some more time. oh how considerate he was when it came to you. thats what you love about him. yes, i did say love. you harbored feelings for the magical teenager that trespassed in your bedroom the first time you met him. he had a charm that you longed for and that was how interested he was in what you had to say. he was a friend. a really good friend you never want to let go of nor lose.

“oh, are you thinking about the stars? well, let me tell you about neverland.” ah neverland, another one of kalim’s stories that you’ve been interested in ever since he mentioned it. he only ever told you about what’s inside neverland and the people inhabiting that world. kalim scooted next to you and extended his arm to a very noticeably bigger star. “see that star over there? look at the second one to the right.” kalim stated as you followed to where his finger was pointing towards.

“that one? what about it?” you asked, hugging your blankets closer to you. “that’s where neverland is! it’s pretty near, i can take you there if you want to.” kalim suggested. you wanted to go to neverland with him. maybe if you do, you’ll be able to escape these problems of yours. maybe you don’t have responsibility there. maybe you’ll even have an actual caring family. the thought made you tear up but you quickly wiped the droplets that escaped your eyes.

“i-i can’t go. sorry,” you always refuse his offer and he always smiled and nodded, understanding your decision. but this time he frowned. he didn’t ask why you didn’t want to go and you loved him for that but the look he was giving you right now asked the said question. the pleading look in his eyes, how they were glossy, how they looked like they were about to spill tears at any given moment.

“h-hah... you can tell me, you know? i don’t like seeing you sad.” perhaps it was time you do open up to him. you know a lot about him but he barely knows anything about you other than your age, name, address and your love for books. maybe if you tell him then perhaps things would change. you inhaled the fresh air of london and turned to face kalim (who you noted was inches apart from you). this sudden closeness reminded you of when you two first kissed- you were still pretty embarrassed about that.

“i’m getting married,” you whispered, though kalim heard it crystal clear. “why...? don’t you... love me?” his voice cracked as he went closer to you. yes, you do love him. you love him more than anyone on this miserable planet. you loved him to death. you would do anything to get to be with him as cheesy as it sounds. “i do,” you began, a cloud formed due to you talking, “but it wasn’t my decision.”

your parents were marrying you off to some guy you don’t even know. you’ve never met him. you don’t even know his name! tears rolled down your cheeks as you awaited kalim’s response. the white haired male was stunned and shocked. he didn’t know how to respond. what should he say anyway? god, he should’ve asked the mermaids for help about this sort of thing. “why are you marrying him if you don’t even love him?! that shouldn’t be allowed!” kalim clenched his fists and shook violently both from frustration and sorrow. he can’t lose you. not yet. not ever.

this is why i hate grown ups... kalim thought to himself.

“i don’t want to, kalim. i swear i don’t love him but i have no choice...” kalim gulped and bit his lower lip to prevent himself from crying although it proved to be useless as he felt hot tears stream down his face. you lifted his chin up so you could get one last good look of him. the last day. this is the last day you’ll be seeing each other...

“y/n...” kalim’s voice cracked once again. the way he said your name in such a tone made you cry. you hated this. why must the world be cruel? why did you take his presence and existence for granted? it was the first time kalim ever called you by your name. kalim grabbed your hand and intertwined it with his. “y/n, i don’t have much time,” he whispered, grabbing both of your hands tightly, afraid he will lose you. “w-what do you mean?” you asked, frantic. what nonsense is he spouting now?

“kalim, this isn’t a funny joke. don’t say those kinds of th-”

“it isn’t a joke!” kalim growled but immediately looked up and softened his expression. “i’m-i’m going to disappear, y/n.” you flinched at this claim. how? is this why he always said to believe in him every time he leaves for neverland? you always believed in him? did you not try hard enough? “why? i always believed in you...” you said in a soft tone, not taking your eyes off of his red orbs.

“you did great but... apparently not everyone does. i’m just someone who was made because people created stories about me. i’m not actually a person, y/n. that’s why my life depends on people’s belief in me.” he explained, his figure slowly dissipating into nothing. more tears streamed down your face. “n-no...” you whispered.

“but hey, listen to me,” kalim started, a smile still playing on his lips as if to reassure you and to stop you from crying. you were attentive. you’re never going to forget how this boy had become your one and only friend. “remember the second star to the right. remember it with all your heart. if you do, something good will be brought upon you, i promise.” you bit your lips, closing your eyes shut. you couldn’t take this anymore.

“good night, miss. continue to believe in me.” kalim whispered, the feeling of his lips connecting to yours once more. it was a bittersweet kiss you longed for. you didn’t want it to end and before you knew it, the feeling of warmth disappeared from your lips and felt as if a part of something was taken from you.

he’s gone. the only person who made me feel alive and wanted... is gone.

“heave-ho!” you flinched at the voice. what on earth? were you hallucinating? “kalim, was that you?” you asked the white haired male as you nudged him. kalim looked up at you, “hm? oh, yeah it was me! i heard it from a dream, didn’t really think it would surprise you.” he stated as you continued to snuggle in his arms. warm. you thought to yourself.

“why did you dream of that old phrase/ i haven’t heard it since i was a child,” you chuckled and closed your eyes, feeling drowsy. the moon illuminated the outlines of your face that kalim took his sweet time to admire. he missed you. th moment he saw you enter night raven college. he felt a familiar feeling in his chest.

“good night, miss. continue to believe in me.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

a/n: sobbing dhmu. im crying bc of my own fic FUCK

#kalim al asim x reader #kalim al asim #twisted wonderland kalim al asim #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #kalim x reader #x reader #twst imagines #twst kalim al asim #twst angst #twst fanfic #twst #female reader #angst #peter pan au #peter pan #HAPPY ANGST

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nethandrake · 4 years

Text

how would you like to go?

stevetony. marvel’s avengers. rated m. canon divergence. 2.3k words.

also on ao3.

*****

It’s only when they’re sitting in the escape pod, staring into the vast depths of the galaxy, does Steve let everything sink in.

It’s one thing to wake up seventy years into the future but another five more? Steve’s starting to wonder if he’s always meant to be propelled forward in time, meant to be a nomad, a traveler. Destined to be a Man Out of Time.

He almost snorts out loud. He can imagine what Tony would say if he knew what’s going on in his mind right now. A drama queen, he’d call him. Or maybe just this once, he’d indulge in Steve’s overdramatic musings. He would.

Then again, Steve supposes five years is better than another seventy. He doubts he can go through all that again, of the possibility of losing his loved ones to time. Not to mention the fact that the reason he even lost those five years is because of Monica Rappaccini. Monica who was once on the Avengers’ side (or he supposes, used them for her own needs), who captured him to harvest his blood, who kept him hidden from the world for five years. Just the thought of her sends him reeling.

He knows there’s more to the story, more he needs to know, should know. Then again, maybe he doesn’t need to know. He’s going to die soon.

“Well,” Tony begins next to him, cutting through Steve’s thoughts, “since we’re gonna die anyway, you have any… I don’t know… Last confessions?”

For a brief second, every fiber of Steve’s body freezes before he’s turning to look, turning to see, turning with a flicker of hope. It dies when he sees Tony’s gaze trained on the constellations around them.

This is the perfect time for Steve to tell Tony, to tell him how his heart skips when he’s near, to tell him how much he adores his boisterous rambling and his sleepy eyes and arresting smile, to tell him how his soul longs for him and only him. Time is running out for the both of them, after all.

But like the coward Steve is, he doesn’t.

“Your jokes,” he settles on instead, airily like it’s nothing. “I just don’t get ‘em.”

That grabs Tony’s attention, turning as Steve speaks. Steve almost wavers at the sight of Tony’s face.

Tony’s as beautiful as the last time Steve saw him. The only sign of aging on his face is the heavier weariness behind his eyes. Despite the front he tends to put up, Tony always seems weary, be it from the all-nighters he pulls or from carrying the weight of the world on his back.

Steve’s pretty sure his supposed death has a hand in it this time. He’s not sure what to make of that. Neither can he comprehend the odd flicker in Tony’s expression before it’s gone.

“I know,” Tony replies, a smirk playing on his lips and a twinkle behind his eyes. “I read your diary.”

An involuntary chuckle tumbles out of his lips as Steve shakes his head and turns away. He knows it’s a joke, meant to distract the both of them from their impending doom, but he couldn’t help but find the irony in it.

He does keep a diary, several even. His current one tucked behind his encyclopedias while the rest are kept in his bedroom back in New York. As curious and nosy Tony can be, Steve doubts he’d go as far as to snoop around his room.

He thinks that should be the end of that, this confessing thing. That this is how it ends between the both of them – together in the confinement of a stranded escape pod, floating in space, surrounded by the second most breathtaking view he has ever laid eyes on.

But then Steve remembers the last five years, five more years of his life wasted, and decides that this is it. He shouldn’t take this to his grave, take this to his grave. Not when Tony’s right here, not when he’s here, older and wearier but as beautiful as the last time bright brown eyes met his.

“I’m in love with you,” he says, easy like breathing.

The speed at Tony whips his head around is absolutely comical, even more when his eyebrows start climbing up his forehead.

“What?”

Steve straightens in his seat. “You heard me.”

Tony’s eyelids flutter, his expression still in disbelief. “I— I must be going deaf because it sounded like you just told me you’re in love with me. Which can’t be right because—”

“Nope. You heard me right.”

Tony blanches. “No.”

Steve scowls. “Yes.”

Tony shakes his head. “No, no, no, no. Nope. You’ve gone insane. Absolutely insane. Is it the lack of oxygen? Or maybe five years in—”

“You know,” Steve interrupts wryly, “I’m starting to wonder if you even read my diary.”

If Steve thought Tony’s eyes were already as wide as saucers, they get even bigger somehow, his cheeks flushing crimson.

“But— But— You can’t! You can’t—”

Steve cocks an eyebrow in response. “I can’t what?”

Tony’s jaw clamps shut.

It feels like an eternity, both of them staring each other down in silence. Steve should’ve predicted this. Of course, confessing his feelings for Tony wouldn’t be smooth sailing, but he always expected to either have his feelings reciprocated or otherwise. Tony’s reaction doesn’t indicate on which side he falls in. It’s terrifying, not knowing.

Steve’s well-acquainted with the unknown, learnt to stop fearing it over time. But sitting next to his best friend, the man who he loves with all of his heart, waiting for said man to tell him how he feels for Steve, is on a whole other plane.

Finally, Tony breaks the tension, his eyes flickering down as he sighs heavily. “Steve— You… You don’t—”

“You can’t tell me how I feel,” Steve argues. “And I know what I feel about you. I've known for a really long time now.” He pauses, leaning forward to cautiously slip his hands in Tony’s, and lowers his voice into a whisper. “Hey. Look at me.”

Tony does, shy and guarded and nervous. Steve readies himself. He’s waited years for this moment. He needs Tony to know before they lose their breath, before he has to watch Tony die.

God, he’s going to have to watch Tony die.

He clenches his jaw, whiling the sting behind his eyes and that terrible thought away.

He won’t think of that now. Not when he’s so close.

“I’m in love with you,” Steve confesses. “I’ve been in love with you for years. Probably since we first met. I’ve loved you before I knew what I feel for you is love. And even after all these years—”

“Well, you were in a coma—”

“Tony.”

Tony nods, looking chastised. “Right shutting up now.”

Steve gulps. He had more to say, to tell Tony, to declare. But after Tony interrupted him, all the words he’s been wanting to say shrivels up.

Something heavy settles in his chest, something Steve knows all too well. Something he has feared all these years of secretly loving Tony from afar.

Steve sighs, dropping his hands in his lap and hanging his head in resignation. “You know, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same for me. I get it. It’s just that you said something about confessions and I just thought—”

“No!” Tony exclaims so loudly that his voice startles the both of them. He clears his throat, bright chestnut eyes shining as they roam Steve’s face. Once again like the delusional optimist he is, Steve lets himself hope.

“No,” Tony repeats, this time quieter, softer, and all too loving. “I do. I do feel the same about you. I’ve been in love with you since we met too.”

Steve doesn’t know who moved first but before he knows it, there are chapped lips pressed against his, arms snaked around Tony’s armored waist, and Tony’s gauntlet-covered hand cupping his cheek.

Steve has envisioned their kiss countless of times before, picturing various scenarios and sensations. But he never expected to be stranded in space half-naked, to have woken up from a five-year coma, to be on the brink of death. Neither did he expect to feel the stirring in his chest, the warmth coursing through his veins, the taste of coffee to be strong on his tongue, to even taste salt at all.

His imagination has nothing on this kiss. Nothing at all.

“Wow,” Tony breathes out when they break apart. “That was…”

“Nice?”

“A long time coming,” Tony amends. Steve huffs at that. “But still nice too.”

Steve grins against Tony’s lips. “I’m glad.”

Tony mirrors him but just as quickly, the smile slips off his face. He blinks his glistened eyelids as his grip on Steve’s cheek slackens. “Jesus, Steve. I really missed you. I missed you so much. I was so lost without you. Those five years… Fuck. Steve, if I knew—”

“I know,” Steve replies softly, drawing him closer to press their foreheads together. “You always come for me. No matter what. You would’ve found me eventually.”

Tony snorts. “No offense but you were asleep. You wouldn’t have known even if an asteroid hit the satellite.”

“Still. You found me, Tony,” he counters. “You rescued me from being potentially struck by an asteroid.”

“Five years, Steve.”

“Better late than never.”

“I guess so, yeah.”

Tony’s frowning, looking unconvinced. Steve’s well acquainted with Tony’s issues when it comes to love, be it for himself or letting others love him. Countless times, he’s tried to change this, change his mind. This time, he’s going to make him see.

“Thank you,” Steve murmurs. “Thank you for coming for me. For saving me.”

This time, the smile that spreads across Tony’s lips is soft. Genuine.

“Like you said, I’ll always come for you.”

This time when they kiss, it’s hot and desperate and all so good. Heated hands paw at his body, skimming from his neck and down his shoulders before settling over his bare chest. Steve could barely suppress a shiver as he feels thumbs brush against his nipples, gasping at the touch. Tony takes advantage of that, deepening the kiss to slip his tongue past Steve’s parted lips.

Steve’s about to take the plunge and demand Tony to remove his suit (because fuck, if this is their last moments, he has to know what it feels like to have Tony under his fingers for the first and last time) when he hears someone clear their throat. Someone who is definitely not either of them.

With a jolt, Steve snaps back and opens his eyes, meeting Thor Odinson’s smirk.

“Of course it would take a dire situation for the two of you to act on your feelings,” Thor remarks, amused as he hovers outside the escape pod. He doesn't look like he's even aged a day.

Steve blinks, his lips parting to speak when Tony beats him to the punch.

“Hey, Thor,” he says cheerily, as if he wasn’t just making out with Steve seconds ago. “Fancy seeing you out— Oh hey, we can actually hear you.”

Thor puffs his chest like the arrogant Asgardian he is. “Well, I am a god. It is to be expected.” Steve barely suppresses a snort. “It is good to see you both in good health, especially the good captain.” His grin broadens, trained on Steve. “Though he doesn’t seem to feel the same.”

“I am,” Steve half-lies, trying his best to hide his arousal and annoyance. He shouldn’t be upset. He and Tony are being rescued from their date with death, after all. “It's good to see you.”

Thor's grin widens.

Tony snorts. “Don't mind him. He’s just upset you interrupted us from having life-affirming sex.”

“Tony.”

“I see,” Thor says, his gaze darting between the both of them. “I suppose I could leave you both here to indulge—”

“No!” Steve exclaims, almost jumping up to his feet and dropping Tony onto the ground.

“Seconded,” Tony chimes. “I mean, as hot as it would be to fuck in space—”

Steve starts, burying his face in his hands as his cheeks begin to burn. “Tony—”

“—I’d rather we do it somewhere we’re less likely to suffocate.”

Thor chuckles. “Then it’ll be my pleasure to escort you both back to Midgard.” He tilts his head in Steve’s direction, his smile softening. “Welcome back, Captain.”

As Thor begins to push the escape pod back to Earth, Tony settles back into his seat, pinning Steve with a tentative expression. He looks absolutely ravished, his lips pink and wet and god, he has to hold himself back from jumping him again. Steve should’ve done this so long ago, should’ve asked him to remove his helmet so he can mess Tony’s hair with his fingers.

“You meant that right?” Tony begins.

“Meant what?”

“What you said. About being in love with me. Because you know, we were about to die and—”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Have I ever said anything I didn’t mean?”

Tony purses his lips. “Well, you do say a lot of shit when you’re mad.”

“Do I look or sound like I’m mad now?”

“No. But then sometimes you joke—”

Steve exhales exasperatedly before reaching over to lace their fingers together. It’s not the first time he wishes Tony would shed his armor, not the first time he wants to know how it feels to have Tony's hand in his.

“Does it look or sound like I’m joking now either?”

“No. But—” Tony pauses, frowning. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Steve leans forward, his lips quirk to the side. “Look at you like what?”

Tony huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he juts his nose to the ceiling. “Like… Like you’re in love with me.”

Steve rolls his eyes, chasing after Tony’s fingers again. This time, the glove parts, revealing a weathered hand. It’s warm.

“That’s because I am.”

The mock annoyance melts away from Tony’s face, making way for a blinding smile.

#stevetony #stony #marvel's avengers #steve rogers #tony stark #marvel's avengers spoilers #*fic #you know i had to ;)

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cxmetery-gates · 4 years

Text

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS - DARK!TOM HIDDLESTON

CHAPTER SIX: PICKUP TRUCK THOUGHTS

SUMMARY: Lynn takes a moment of solitude to put things into perspective, all thanks to a friend’s truck and some clouds. WORD COUNT: 2.8k NOTE: Not me falling of the face of the internet for a couple months. Whoops! WARNINGS: dark!tom hiddleston, teacher!tom hiddleston

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS MASTERLIST

"YOU REALIZE IT'S A SERIOUS problem at this point, right?"

"At least it's not crack."

The two familiar voices catch both mine and Gabe's attention. With the doors open, legs sprawled out wherever they're comfy, and some early 2000s alternative music jamming from the speakers, we genuinely look like high school delinquents. All we're missing is a cigarette hanging from our lips.

My back aches as I pry my upper half to sit up straight, a chorus of popping following my movement. I brightly grin at River and Ellie and my feet reach the black pavement. It appears Ellie just rolled her eyes at River's sassy remark. I begin to ask what they were talking about before I notice something being shoved back in the boy's backpack: his new Obi-Wan Kenobi lightsaber. Part of me isn't surprised, but the other half is wondering what reason he has to carry it around at school. Regardless of the reason, we all have our quirks: it took me until the eighth grade to leave my replica of Harry Potter's wand at home.

Geeky things, I guess?

I can only guess what River was telling Ellie when it comes to his devotion to Star Wars. There isn't an existing number to count how often River and I find ourselves on the topic of space battles and the Skywalkers.

"What's up, friendos?" I ask as they draw closer. A sudden chilly breeze lifts my hair and bumps along my skin. It's almost a frustrating sensation, it being the middle of August. It looks like I'm the only one who feels it, as my teeth are the only ones that chatter. Since my arms are tightly holding each other, I barely have time to react to Ellie's next reaction.

Ellie drags her feet dramatically until she goes limp in my arms. "I wanna go home and sleep."

I stumble back at the weight added, wriggling my arms to hold her steady. The last thing I need on the first day of school is a concussion. "Christ— well maybe if you get off, we can take you home."

River piles his backpack into the back of Gabe's truck, the loud thump startling Ellie, and looks at us with a confused stare. "Weren't– Weren't we supposed to hang out today?"

The girl in my arms rises to her feet, groaning. "Shit, I forgot. My mom said she wants me back home after school as soon as possible. You know, groundings and all."

"Next time, don't get into an accident." Gabe sends her a smirk.

Ellie narrows her eyes and mocks his response, crossing her arms and leaning on one leg. A small chortle parts my lips as I lean up against the truck next to River. After her bickering, Ellie continues. "Go get ice cream or something in my memory. I just have to get back before I'm killed, which should be any day now."

"I call your funeral playlist," I reply. Looking up while my fingers stroke my chin comically, I add, "A ton of 80s pop with a dash of Gaga?"

Booping my nose, Ellie smiles. "You know me too well."

We all file into Gabe's small truck— well, almost all of us. Since the truck is a three-seater and police like to patrol this area, there is always a sacrifice who gets to claim the back of the car. This time, it happens to be me. Once I was lying flat on my back, a blue tarp was pulled over my body, coming right above my nose. Oh, the perks of old, short pick-up trucks roaming a town with endless police...

Sliding open the window, Gabe's voice calls out. "You good back there?"

"Yeah, I'm fucking peachy," I reply.

There's the sound of laughter before the engine kicks on. At that moment, my paranoia starts to kick in, starting with my heart beating fast in my chest and palms getting sweaty. Not once have any of us gotten caught, but I can't help but think the day we are, it's my ass going to jail. I've never bothered to look at the laws relating to seat belts in other states, but here, the law is highly enforced. Not only would I get fined and definitely put into a cell, but I have no doubt Gabe would endure the same fate.

Nice way to put yourself in one of these states, I chastise myself.

I almost groan, but I can't be sure if I'll cause one of the friends up front to worry. So, I exhale and inhale rhythmically like I was taught. Looking straight ahead, all I can see are blue skies and puffy white clouds. Occasionally, a tree or two will enter the scenery. I'm barely blinking as I try to put shapes to the clouds, some more impossible than others. Despite having an imaginative mind, the figures aren't creating a picture for me to follow.

I like to remember how easy it was as a child to create something out of nothing. An empty napkin roll wasn't just cardboard; it was a telescope that needed color. Our dolls weren't acting on our behalf; they were doing it themselves and showing us their lives. Every cloud wasn't just a random array of water droplets but rather, a visual story to be told. I want to know what causes all of us to lose that form of innocence. Ways of thinking like pessimism or optimism, that's easy: once too many shitty things start to happen more than the good, one is likely to form a biased view or vice versa. But, why do we stop playing with imaginary friends? Or act out intense battles on the playground? Even the smallest blip of innocence, like cloud-watching, becomes warped.

Sometimes, it's easy to pick out that moment in our own lives where we find ourselves becoming grown-ups and leaving childhood behind, but the shitty part is that it isn't just me or Ellie, River, or Gabe who go through trials. It's not just the kid who loses a parent or the girl who was taken advantage of. Everyone has their wars. And in the end, we lose, becoming a part of the system that inflicts these damages.

These damages I speak of tear us apart. They mold us into shapes beyond recognition. No longer a funny shape or a distorted animal in the sky, but dark, heavy, and so close to bursting. And when we finally let go, after all the waiting and rolling, we seem to explode, leaking and oozing our pain, our torment, us. And when it's over? What's left? I guess there are two options: remain on the ground to seep into further nothingness, or rise once more, only to break again, again, and again. But life is such torment and full of trials, is it not?

Funny how staring at a cloud can put life into perspective.

My brain is overrun by these thoughts that I don't even realize Gabe's truck is rolling to a stop. I finally take notice when car doors swing open then shut.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty," River says leaning over the side of the truck to get a look at me.

Rolling my eyes with a grin, I swat at his shoulder, which misses as he recoils. "Shut up, loser." I sit up, tossing the tarp to the side as I move to stand. River smirks and offers his hands to help me down. Without hesitation I take them, swinging one leg over the side and the other following before I made a short leap to the ground. Because neither of us apparently can avoid embarrassment, we're both holding each other's hands after I land. A rosy blush spreads across his entire face— no doubt mine as well— before I take the initiative to lean backwards, focusing on Ellie who crawls from the side door.

"Speaking of losers," Gabe sighs. I can't help but feel the reddening in my cheeks, assuming this asshole is talking about River and me, but I notice he's looking at Ellie, now swinging her backpack around one shoulder in her driveway.

She notices that all of us are looking, causing her to freeze. "Why does everyone hate me today?"

I smile bringing her into a goofy hug. "We just miss you. Don't get into any more accidents, please?"

"Yeah, yeah," she snorts, hugging me back to the best of her ability, considering I have her arms pinned down at an odd angle. "Alright, leave my driveway before I actually get you guys killed."

Gabe, River, and I say our goodbyes before filing into the white truck, heading God-knows-where as a worn-down engine sparks to life. Looking over at River, who sits to my right in the passenger seat, I send him a glare that he doesn't see since his eyes are focused on what lies beyond the window— or lack thereof.

While his hair barely covers his neck, mine flows down to my mid-back, meaning having windows rolled all the way down and speeding down a highway won't lead to the best outcomes for my hair. But I can't complain too much: River's hair going crazy in the wind is both cute and a bit funny. A small smile graces my features before a thin lock of hair enters my lips.

Glancing over at the driver, I notice how only locks of hair toward the ends move slowly despite the windows rolled all the way down, as if the strands are wearing a shield against the wind. I wonder how Gabriel keeps his hair so still before making the dumbfounding realization that he wears that beanie 24/7 and who knows how long he goes without washing his perfect hair. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen the boy without the hat. I guarantee no one would recognize him without it.

"So, where are we heading?" Gabriel asks when we reach the stoplight before entering the populated part of town.

I exhale, leaning my head on the headrest of the seat. "Well, I for one could go for something frozen. Maybe a burger, too."

"Didn't you just eat lunch?" River asks, humorously smiling in my direction.

"And had coffee literally less than an hour ago," Gabe adds.

Sending a blank look to River (whose smile widens) then over to Gabe, his eyes never leaving the stretch of road ahead of him (at least one person in the group can do that), I huff, my eyes shutting closed and I bring my shoulders up into a shrug. "I don't know what you both have against me and my food and drink consumption, but you better knock it off."

There's a small hum of laughter to my right, sending a slight shiver down my neck. "If we left you alone for a week, there's no telling how much you'd put in your system," River tells me as if I don't know that already.

"Yeah, yeah. Alright, Bob and Jillian, I don't need you to berate me."

══════════════════

Twenty minutes later, the three of us find ourselves outside a burger joint. In one hand, I have a burger waiting to be devoured and in the other is a frozen strawberry lemonade. Nothing says summer like this combination. We're sitting the parking lot eating our meals, more specifically in the back of the truck. From my phone, I have a playlist plainly called "Chill" playing from the nearly-blown speakers.

"I never thought food could taste so good," I moan as the burger slides down my throat.

"You're acting like you haven't eaten in a week."

Sending Gabe an eye-roll, I reply, "It might as well have been."

There's a moment of silence before River brings up a topic not discussed in a couple weeks. "Do you guys wanna come over and jam for a bit sometime this week? We haven't done anything in a while."

One summer a few years back, the trio of us learned we can play different instruments. I have been playing the guitar and drums since I was younger, thanks to a musically gifted grandfather. Gabe and River both had a knack for guitar too, though Gabe had more experience with the bass guitar and River had some training with piano. While our jam sessions are nothing too serious, as none of us want to be in a band or write our own songs, it's become a fun and stress-reducing way to hang out when silence would otherwise fill the atmosphere. The last time, we figured out how to play the theme songs of our favorite movies using a ukulele and bongos. It was something I didn't need to hear, but I'm glad I did.

I nod my head. "Yeah, we can this weekend if we aren't being drowned in homework by that point."

Gabe also agrees with a nod, his mouth full of fries. "It's a maybe from me: Mom might need to borrow the truck since hers is wearing down."

River turns his dark brown eyes over to me, capturing an embarrassing scene as lettuce pokes between my stuffed lips. Great. "Well, I guess I can hang out with you if someone can't show."

While I playfully punch his arm, I send a look over to Gabe who hides a smirk in his straw. He catches me looking as River goes on about one of his classes. Sending me a wink, I narrow my eyes knowingly: his mom just got a brand new truck. Mr. Matchmaker goes back to this food, making a statement on how hot River's finance teacher is, causing the boy to make a very uncomfortable face.

Despite the long talks we shared in the back of Gabe's truck, I find myself zoning out hardcore once again. I can't figure out why exactly my mind had wondered, but I do know where. My thoughts go back to Trinity's face, remembering how she would sit next to me against the side of the truck the very few times she decided to make time for my friends. There's a ghost of warmth in my palm like fingers squeezing when the short snippet of a memory expels from deep inside my mind. I don't know why I thought of it. It just appeared, causing a droplet of woe to fill my gut.

Like my friends have told me before, I need to let this go. There's no use in holding on to something, or rather someone who isn't coming back, especially someone who was never good for me in the first place. Glancing up, I spy on River munching and talking with Gabe. A blush covers my cheeks when I remember how utterly embarrassing it was when I broke down in front of him over a stupid girl. He told me there are worse things to worry about.

"Like climate change?" I asked, sniffling into a pillow. I hope he washed it after that encounter. Hell, he needed to lysol everything down after my mopey ass walked through the place.

River smiled warmly at me, pulling me into a giant bear hug. Sometimes, I want to ask for one of those hugs again. "I was going to say people who like pineapple on pizza, but climate change is also a concern."

I remember crying not a second later, but that was due to the thought of polar bears facing extinction.

Contrary to knowing how wonderful my three best friends are, I'm also aware that there are certain things I can't share. I don't want to overbear them with my problems that should have been solved months ago. The fact that I'm still getting small flashbacks and thoughts of her is pathetic, and I'm aware of that fact. On the other hand, it isn't like my group of friends will give up and leave if I spill my guts, right? I shouldn't be scared of expression my thoughts, feelings, and emotions to my closest friends. And yet, here I sit, undecided on what to do.

Christ, do I need to get my priorities straight.

When my eyes break away from their trance, all I see is Gabe and River entering a heated discussion, about what I'm not sure. With my thoughts still in a bit of limbo, I'm shocked back to reality when they both leap from either side of the vehicle, rushing to pull items from their bags.

Under any other normal circumstance, it would be concerning to see two dudes arguing one moment then reaching into their bags the next. I'm willing to bet the next logical calculation for a stranger would have been to get away, fearing the queue for guns or knives. But I know these losers. Even if they are fighting or wanting to kill each other, there is only one way they can settle their differences.

"Soon, you will see the way of the Jedi," River exclaims while thrashing his blue lightsaber through the air.

"Shut the fuck up, you nerd!" Gabe flicks out a red lightsaber, taunting the other.

"Oh, my God," I say with no emotion in my tone, watching as red and blue shamelessly slash at each other in battery-produced light in a burger joint parking lot.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

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#obsessive teachings #dark!tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston x ofc #teacher!tom hiddleston #loki #high school #stalking #obsessed love #obsessive #dark!fic

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rokutouxei · 4 years

Text

the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

ikemen vampire: temptation through the dark theo van gogh / mc | T | [ ao3 link in bio ]

The challenge seemed pretty simple: to try to befriend the university bookshop’s most sour employee, Theo van Gogh. As a literature major with a boatload of book recommendations on her back, it ought to be a simple task indeed. But as she uncovers what lies between Theo’s pages, the more she finds it harder to become closer to him without having to put the feeling directly into words. What can she learn from Theo about what it means to stay—and how can she teach Theo about what it means to let go? | written for ikevamp big bang 2020!

[ masterpost for all chapters ]

CHAPTER 9 OF 22

You will let my tender hook Catch the folded darkness inside you, let me occupy The dented place at the base of your throat. - "One Life", Carlomar Arcangel Daoana

She wakes up late.

Comically late.

No hangover, thank god—but it’s 11am and she’s dressed in lent pajamas in a bed that isn’t her own. She shoots up to sitting position in a second, and standing in a minute, trudging out the room to the bathroom at the end of the hall.

By the time she’s up and out of the room, a little more awake, Dazai and Arthur have already long gone, the only remnants of their presence the bit of glitter that they had wiped onto the sofa they nestled in.

And text messages.

She squints when she reads it, not because she had a hard time reading what it said, but—because she couldn’t believe what it said.

A series of text messages from Dazai:

[ 7:23 | Dazai ] ur still asleep but ur friend kinda hot

[ 7:24 | Dazai ] ofc I woke up first but his eyelashes tho???

[ 8:32 | Dazai ] pls tell me he’s not a douche bc im rly gonna jump him

[ 9:03 | Dazai ] mgonna jump him

[ 10:19 | Dazai ] abt to find out if he’s got the magnum sized dong u promised

Oh, god, what has she done.

With a groan, she heads down the hallway, phone securely in the pocket of the sweatpants, to see Vincent and Theo preparing a meal in the kitchen; Theo preparing some sort of fillet (fish? Chicken?) and Vincent frying some onions and garlic on the stove, filling the kitchen with a nice aroma.

“Good morning,” she says softly, as she shuffles onto one of the dining table chairs.

“Thought you died,” Theo says with a snort; but once he turns around to face her, all derision goes away in his face and is replaced by a quiet surprise.

Vincent beams as he turns to get the fillets from Theo. (It’s chicken.) “Good morning. Did you sleep well? No headache?”

She shakes her head. “Nope, I’m good. Thanks for letting me sleep here last night and for the clothes.”

“Of course, no problem at all,” Vincent answers, turning back to the pan. The chicken makes a sizzle as it meets the oil.

Theo is still staring at her with an odd look on his face.

“Earth to Theo?” she calls out, waving her hand in front of her. “Something wrong?”

“Broer. Why did you lend her my clothes.”

Oh.

“You know how most my shirts are, paint-stained in all the weird places.”

She feels the cling of the cotton around her skin so differently, so suddenly. Oh.

“She wouldn’t have minded, she was drunk.”

That’s correct, but—

Vincent smiles at Theo, the kind of smile one makes when they can see through someone; she’s filled with a kind of relief at knowing that Vincent can do that to Theo. Maybe the man isn’t an impenetrable a character after all. “No need to be shy, Theo.”

“I am not,” he insists, finally tearing his gaze away from her and heading to the sink to wash the used chopping board and the knife. “I just don’t want her wearing my stuff.”

She smirks. He is shy. True, she didn’t get the opportunity to think about what she was putting on last night because she was so tired and knocked out by the alcohol, but…if that was the price she had to pay to see this side of Theo she doesn’t have the opportunity to witness often, then it was worth it. Oh, the ever put-together Theo, brought to his knees by only one person in the world, the one he trusts the most: his brother. “Is it because your personality is contagious?” she teases, “wouldn’t want to catch that.”

He answers her with a glare. “Reverse. It’s your stupidity that’s contagious.”

“Oh, we’re pretty much equally as stupid, Theo. No need to worry.”

“We are not,” he says, and then Vincent elbows him carefully.

“You really should be a little gentler to your friends,” Vincent comments, as he turns the fillet onto its other side.

Theo grumbles something unintelligible and it makes her laugh. Sitting in the kitchen, watching the two brothers side by side with their back to her as they prepare—she checks the clock—lunch for the three of them, she hums, content. She’s lived alone for all her life here in the campus, and it was one she looked forward to after living in a house crammed with people for most of her life. But sitting here, watching them share the chores and maybe have a little banter with each other—makes her reconsider that maybe, maybe settling down in even the worst of places isn’t that horrible when you’re in good company.

Theo opens the plate cupboard and hands her a set of it with some cutlery. “Set the table at least, freeloader?” He says, though his voice lacks all the venom his words otherwise had.

Okay, she’ll have to reconsider if Theo counts as “good company.”

Theo barely survives lunch with her and his brother because of how much he gets teased by the two. He might argue that this is worse than being stuck with her and Arthur because since it is Vincent, he does not get the leeway to have a comeback, only able to grumble in displeasure at being see-through. They stuff their bellies not only with Vincent’s famed chicken with herbs but also with a hefty amount of laughter.

She slides back (slightly disgusted) into her costume to walk back home in, confident that many other students will be trudging along the streets suffering the same fate. (“Not everyone wakes up as late as you.” “There’s bound to be at least one, right?”) When she comes out of the bathroom, there’s a book on top of his neatly-folded clothes.

They speak at the same time.

“I could wash these first before giving it back if you—” “You had that with you all this time?”

Silence.

She breaks it with a laugh. “Yeah, it was a Saturday. I didn’t want to break the schedule.”

“You get so thorough about the weirdest things,” he comments, but he takes the bundle in her arms anyway. “It’s alright, I’ll have them. Let me get you a book, too.”

She follows Theo into the studio, where he crouches in front of some bookshelves. Vincent peeps from behind his easel. “You should walk her home,” he offers, as Theo pulls a few books out of the shelf.

“No, it’s alright, I’ll be fine! I’m not drunk or dizzy. The walk will help clear my head.”

“It’s twenty minutes out,” Theo points out, getting up.

“Just promise that if you find me asleep on the street you’ll pick me up?”

Handing Murakami’s Dance, Dance, Dance to her, Theo grins. “I can’t promise that.”

“Oh, Theo, you know you will.”

Even when she is long out of his sight, the smile on his face does not go away. Even as the day shifts into mundanity. Even as he’s carting a bagful of clothes to the launderette. Even as he picks up some groceries on the way home. Even as he prepares dinner for Vincent, who is a few hours deep into painting.

Maybe for a moment, it goes away, but—

He thinks of her and the smile comes back full force.

She spends the rest of Sunday recovering and hiding away in her room after the very socially draining party, but by Monday she’s hopped onto her bike and headed for the literature club’s little gazebo. She’s left a message for Dazai, asking for company. Sure, they spent quite a lot of time together in the past week, after having jumped through thrift stores and boutiques for the perfect Night Circus costume (and yes, she made him read the book beforehand too, for good measure) but Saturday was quite a day. She’s brought a couple of cookies for sharing with him, sitting at their usual spot, looking out at the quadrangle next to it.

“Toshiko-san! Sorry we kept you waiting!”

The plural takes her off guard, and she turns to find that Dazai has brought a rather distracted-looking Isaac along, his hands in the pockets of his slacks. Isaac is always dressed so well—she supposes it’s part of the uniform or something of being seen as a respectable professor—but she sure does want to see him dress down once. T-shirt, shorts, that kind—Isaac seems to take everything too seriously.

The pleasant feeling of seeing a friend she hasn’t met up with in a long time is quickly replaced by confusion, as the science complex is nowhere near the Arts building. “Nice to see you here, Isaac,” she says, but also with the lilt of a question.

Dazai answers said question. “He’s here because he has nothing better to do, so I asked him to come.”

Isaac makes a face that’s both resignation and panic. “He passed by my office.” –and dragged me out because he wouldn’t take no for an answer, she finishes in her head.

“I see,” she answers, even though that’s not really an explanation in itself.

She knows Isaac through Dazai, and Dazai knows Isaac through a very peculiar class: Occultism 101.

A class team-taught by three major colleges in the university—the College of Arts, the College of Science, and the College of Social Sciences—Occultism 101 is one of the more controversial classes on campus because of its nature. It goes through a long history of the evolution and persistence of supernatural beliefs and practices among nations in the world, in that nice gray area between religion and science. There are only two kinds of students in Occultism 101: those who believe and who are genuinely interested, and those who do not believe and would like to spend an entire semester saying “bah! That’s not true!” to themselves all the time.

Occultism 101 is typically taught by professors from the College of Social Sciences and College of Arts with backgrounds in religious practices and other mystical behavior (whether in history or art), and then occasionally, in the middle of the semester, guest lecturers from the College of Science come in to give lectures on how these “supernatural events” may be explainable through scientific means. Say, how the piping system in a building can cause haunted “cold spots”, or how floating dust particles can come up in a photograph as “orbs”, or the likes.

And she doesn’t want to be very stereotypical about it, but a lot of people in the College of Science are pretty… well, square, and so no one really wants to teach Occultism 101, even if it’s only a few meetings in a semester. This is how this job ends up to unwilling, no-choice Ph.D. students such as Isaac.

It was just his luck that Dazai was in the section he taught.

“So, Osamu, care to tell us about your little date last Sunday?” she asks, as the other two have taken their seats across her. Dazai swoons a little at the mention of Sunday. Isaac looks at him with unsureness.

(Isaac has had the miserable experience of being the victim of Dazai’s flirtation at some point in time. One can see how that has instead simmer into a rather tentative friendship. All is well.)

Dazai rests his elbows on the table and places his chin on the palms of his hands. “He’s so dreamy.”

“No he isn’t,” she swiftly replies, without thought.

But Dazai pretends not to have heard it. “He’s not looking for a serious relationship though,” he adds. “Not that I am, either.”

“You aren’t?”

“No, sweetie,” Dazai explains. “But he’s my type and I’m his type and we couldn’t just leave it at that so I have his number now, and a little… arrangement.”

The word hangs in between them, swaying.

Oh no, that’s not any good. “What arrangement.”

“You don’t need to sound so concerned.”

“This is Arthur we’re talking about,” she insists, and the name makes Isaac flinch a little.

“Doyle, the med student?” Isaac asks, and she turns to him, blinking.

“You know him?” Remembering Arthur during the party, her mouth falls into a small o. “He knows you too, doesn’t he?”

Isaac scoffs. “Who in this university doesn’t?” Arthur’s pretty well-known to be a flirt. Something like having a checklist of bedding at least one person in every department—a rumor that would have been a little more shameful if the rumors also didn’t say how he was so good at it.

She nods. “Well, fair enough.”

“No, no, he’s an absolute sweetheart to me, so it’s definitely a you problem,” Dazai insists. “It’s just a friendship with benefits, yanno?” He emphasizes every of the following syllables with his tone and his hands: “Nice, big, hefty benefits.”

And even Isaac, who usually refrains from commenting no matter how much he has to say, has to quip with “Terrible choice, really.”

And she has to agree. “I respect you, but not your taste, Osamu.”

Dazai grins. “Understandable.” He picks up one of the sandwiches she’s prepared. “You make it sound like I’m the only one making bad decisions though.”

“Excuse me?”

He turns to Isaac. “You should have gone to the Halloween party. She brought her little boy toy.”

She scoffs. “He is not my boy toy.”

“You sure do have him around your finger though, getting in matching costumes and all that,” Dazai says. “Spends Saturdates with him all the time.”

The only strategy that will work in times like these is straight-up ignoring him. “Anyway—” she begins, about to steer the conversation away when Isaac speaks up.

“It’s nice to hear you’re getting close to other people,” he says softly. Isaac has a way of speaking that makes it always seem like he’s spent so much time thinking about what he said before he actually said it; so sometimes it’s hard to gauge if he’s saying it casually or entirely seriously.

So she blinks. “You make it seem like I have no friends, Isaac.”

“I-It’s not that!” he suddenly blurts. Ah, there. There’s the usual Isaac. “You’ve spent so much time focusing on your work lately, it’s nice to know you’re relaxing with other people sometimes.”

And he doesn’t say it, but she sure does hear it: the you haven’t been to the astronomy club in a while and it’s made me worried about you.

She doesn’t go religiously, but she used to attend fairly often to hang out with the other members and just look up at the stars. Isaac tries to organize at least two sessions in a month, one to look at the moon, and another to point at the stars. She hasn’t been able to catch them in a bit.

But then, slowly, as the image of the view outside the astronomy club’s hangout is refreshed in her mind, the way the physics building rooftop is just high enough to provide a good view of the rest of the campus below, the city downtown, just at the right place on campus that at night, the rest of the sprawling town’s streetlights trickle out like golden LED veins through the threes—an idea begins to implant itself into her head.

Taking root immediately.

She likes to go up here to think. She really shouldn’t have had permission to go up there on her own, in her free time, since they have rules about club hours and the likes, but Isaac is a close friend and gave her a spare key, so she can come and go as she pleases. And sure, the Grove is a nice, quiet place for book clubs and maybe doing homework if one doesn’t need an electric socket, but up here in the astronomy club’s “the Rooftop”, she feels like she can float away into the vast ocean of her thoughts and get lost in them for a moment.

She feels small up there. And that’s a good feeling.

She won’t tell it to Isaac’s face but it’s one of the primary reasons why she applied for the astronomy club in the first place. The stars are great no matter how dumb she is at physics, but the view—it’s really something else.

What does the world look like from the point of view of a star? How tiny are human lives in the vast expanse of the universe? How long have these stars been out there, how long will they stay out there, how much longer will they stay in this universe more than we will?

…This is why Theo teases her for being a literature major: all these goddamn metaphors.

And for a split second, she thinks…

Maybe it isn’t that bad to share that same quiet space with him?

…You know, to talk books.

“About that…”

Isaac and Dazai turn to her.

“Mind if I sneak in an outsider to the Roof?” she asks, facing Isaac with genuine hope in her voice.

Isaac only shrugs. “Do as you please,” he says casually, taking a cookie from her little box on the table.

And she grins like he’d just given her the light of the world. “Thank you, Isaac.”

Dazai shakes his head, because he knows she’s got no denying herself out of this one the next time.

#the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart #ikemen vampire #ikevamp theo

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exhaustedfander · 4 years

Text

First Comes Love: Epilog

a03 link

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / epilog

word count: 1,898

“Is that the last of the boxes?” Logan asked, leaning against the wall. Remus scoffed from where he was on the floor, opening a box of cups and plates.

“Hell no. There’s still a fuck-ton in the truck; go on lazy bones, get going.” Logan shook his head, sending Remus a teasing glare.

“Is that a very nice attitude to have with your husband?” He asked, knowing it made Remus’s heart skip a beat every time he said it. Even after being married for a few months, the word ‘husband’ threw him like nothing else.

“C’mon, Dragonfly.” Logan sighed, though more out of fondness than exhaustion.

“Fine, but only to get you to shut your mouth,” Logan said, opening the door and heading back to the moving truck.

“Hey! Who’s being mean now?” Remus called, but Logan was already outside.

In actuality, Remus knew there was no way they were going to manage to fully unpack, at least not tonight. But they’d do the essentials, and likely order pizza after being too tired to make dinner.

They’d been looking for houses the moment they were engaged, eager to have a bit more space for whatever – or whoever– came into their lives in the future. Finally, Remus had an office where he could write in peace and fill it with as much horror memorabilia as he wished without cluttering their shared space with posters and action figures. Remus’s latest novel was a best-seller, which certainly helped cement the fact that purchasing a house was exactly what they wanted to do.

Remus looked around the still fairly empty living room, aside from a few pieces of furniture, knowing it would soon be filled with clutter and liveliness. It was homey, really, genuinely homey. He’d always thought people were being dramatic when they walked into a house and said they just knew it was perfect for them, but that was exactly how he’d felt the moment he’d walked in. He could see himself living in it instantly, could see Logan with him, and somewhere down the line, kids.

The house wasn’t huge, but it was nice, and it felt right, and there was even space to put in a garden in the backyard. Remus couldn’t believe he was considering taking up gardening of all things; he’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t ever become so painfully domestic and cliché, but he couldn’t make good on that promise.

He thought back to the years before Logan when he and Roman were apart and he felt like he was alone and scattered to the wind. It was almost impossible to contemplate now, having been surrounded by so much love, unlike what he thought he’d ever be able to receive.

Remus could hardly recognize his past. The man he’d been lived on in memories, but they were fading more with each passing day. Remus didn’t necessarily like to consider his life before Logan a blur. There were certain people he’d considered friends at the time, and accomplishments he was at least a little proud of, but all of that paled in comparison to what he had now.

“Are you alright?” Remus peaked up from the box he’d been staring absently into, seeing Logan standing beside him with a look of concern in his eyes.

“I’m fine. Great. Like, really, really great,” Remus announced a dopey grin on his face.

“If you’re so ‘great’, then why have you stopped helping me? You were just chastising me a moment ago,” Logan said, before pausing, a concerned look creeping onto his face. “Remus, what’s the matter?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Remus said, offering Logan’s extended hand and making it to his feet, “I’m just feeling particularly sappy right about now. Have I told you how beautiful you look today?” Logan chuckled lightly.

“I’m wearing a stained T-shirt, my hair’s a mess, frankly we’re both quite a mess.”

“And yet you’re still the prettiest thing I ever did see,” Remus said with a smile, wrapping his arms around Logan and pulling him close.

“I could say the same about you,” Logan said, pressing a kiss to his husband’s lips before pulling back, “Now, why don’t you help me finish unpacking some more, and then we can both be as sappy as you’d like. After all, you were just complaining about my lack of intuitive.”

“Sure,” Remus agreed, “Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”

The couple takes in several more boxes, unpacking a while longer, and set up the TV before settling down on the couch and ordering some pizza. The days ahead would include a fair amount more of unpacking, but for now, they were content with the work they’d done (and too tired for much more).

“Still feeling particularly sappy, are we?” Logan asked once they’d finished their dinner and were sitting together watching a film neither of them were paying too much attention to. Remus blinked; unaware he’d been staring.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Remus said, grabbing Logan’s hand and lacing their fingers together, “How can I not? I mean, look at you.”

“What’re you up to, Mr. Knightly-Sanders?” Logan asked, his voice light and teasing, though there was a hint of suspicion that made itself present. Remus pressed his free hand to his chest, gasping like a dramatic starlet.

“I can’t believe you! I’m complimenting you, and profess my boundless, unyielding love for you,” Remus paused to press a drawn-out, slow but passionate kiss to Logan’s lips, “And you doubt my intentions?”

“I doubt your intentions when you get that look in your eyes,” Logan said pointedly.

“A look? Whatever do you mean?” Remus asked batting his eyelashes.

“Remus.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll just go ahead and ask.”

“By all means,” Logan said, “What is it that you wanted to discuss?”

“Can we get a dog?” Remus asked, his eyes almost comically wide, “Pretty, pretty please?” Logan sighed.

“We just started moving into the house today. Life is fairly hectic at the moment.”

“We don’t have to get one tomorrow,” Remus pointed out, “Just soon. C’mon, Dragonfly, we talked about getting a pet before.” Logan nodded.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“And we could train them to be a watchdog! Wouldn’t that be the coolest! Can we get one Logan, please!”

“…Maybe.” Remus grinned widely, climbing into his husband’s lap and kissing him senseless (Remus knew that ‘maybe’ was a surefire yes. Within a few weeks, they’d have brought home their rescue German Shepard, Duke, who Logan became incredibly fond of almost immediately).

Once their movie had finished and the pair still sat together in a tangle of limbs on the couch, Logan spoke up.

“What’re you thinking about?”

“Huh?” Remus asked, peaking up from where he’d been lying on Logan’s shoulder.

“You’ve been quiet. What’s on your mind?” Remus smiled, snuggling back into Logan’s side and laying his head back on his husband’s shoulder.

“Absolutely everything. How much I love you, and how fucking happy I am being with you, and how right this house feels. I didn’t think I was the type to get such a domestic happy ending… did you ever think this would be you? Married, a house, sappy as all fuck?” Remus already knew the answer, but he couldn’t help but ask.

“No,” Logan said, running a hand through Remus’s frazzled hair, “No, not at all. I didn’t have any kind of expectations like this for my life. And yet here we are, and I can’t be more pleased with how things have turned out. I love you too, my dear, more than anything.”

“Remember when you claimed you were ‘emotionless’? That wasn’t that long ago.”

“Claimed? I don’t know what you mean. I’ve never felt a single emotion in all my life.” Remus laughed, loud and unabashedly happy, weighed down only slightly from exhaustion.

“Oh, how silly of me to forget. I’m married to a robot.” Logan hummed, laughing lightly as he pressed a kiss into Remus’s hair. “A robot with a fantastic ass.”

“As I am a robot who feels absolutely nothing, that statement means nothing to me.”

“Oh yeah?” Remus asked, a teasing infliction infiltrating his voice. “So you don’t feel anything when I tell you you’re the smartest, most beautiful, most incredible, best robot husband in the world and that I love you more than anything?”

“Of course, not,” Logan lied through his teeth, though he couldn’t suppress the smile be broke out into when Remus kissed him. Remus smiled, yawning as he leaned against Logan. “Tired?”

“Mhmm. You’re comfy.”

“Our bed will be far more comfortable than my shoulder.”

“Maybe,” Remus said, already beginning to shut his eyes.

“I refuse to sleep on the couch in our first night in this house,” Logan said, moving Remus off of him and making it to his feet. Remus whined at the loss of contact before Logan grabbed his hand and helped him up.

“Come on, we’ve got a lot more unpacking tomorrow. We need to rest.” Remus let out another groan before allowing Logan to lead him out of the living room and start getting ready for bed.

Within minutes, Remus was back in the security of Logan’s embrace, lying in their darkened bedroom beginning to drift off.

Some level of unfamiliarity still buzzed in the air. Sleeping for the first night in a new place is always an odd experience, even if it’s somewhere you want to be. But Remus knew that soon the familiarity and comfort of their apartment would be replaced with this house, and all of the new memories they were sure to make.

As he clung tightly to his husband, Remus pondered all that had led up to this moment, and all that lay ahead. He wasn’t usually the type to have grant expectations for how life would turn out. For so long, he’d had so little left to hold on to. Hope was a fleeting thing; and yet now, Remus couldn’t help but look forward to what the future had in store.

He thought of what life would be like with Logan from here on out, married, tending a house together, soon owning a dog, and somewhere down the line, adopting children. Remus had been so sure for so long that such a future lived on only in the minds of the delusional, but here he found himself, hoping for those very things.

Less than two years ago, Remus had been at a point where he had so few people to turn to and nothing that particularly excited him in life, and now he had Logan, his brother, and the wonderful friends he’d made.

Soon, he’d be walking Roman down the aisle just like his twin had done for him, seeing him marry his emo nightmare and get his very own fairytale ending. And if his suspicions were correct – and they most certainly were; he’d caught Patton browsing Jeweler websites – Patton and Janus would soon be engaged too.

Remus drifted to sleep, lying against Logan’s chest and whispering a final exhausted declaration of love before being greeted with unconsciousness.

And in the morning, when the sunlight shone through the window, illuminating the half-furnished bedroom with boxes on the floor in all its glory and he saw Logan, hair ruffled from sleep and eyes bleary, he’d feel just the same he did the morning he decided he wanted to marry him.

The End

=+= Taglist (Sorry, I forgot to add this when I initially posted this chapter):

@nadiestar, @unoriginalgayboyalex, @maryann-draws, @bella-in-a-bag, @igonnatalknothing, @elizabutgayer, @wishthefish916

If you want to be added to my general taglist, let me know! I’d be happy to add ya!

#first comes love #first comes love epilog #sanders sides #human au #intrulogical #romantic intrulogical #that's a wrap!#Gosh I'm gonna miss this story #it was a lot of fun #exhaustedfander #exhaustedfander writes

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mrwinterr · 4 years

Text

Death of Me (Chase Collins x Dark!Witch!Female Reader) - Part 1

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Pairing: Chase Collins x Dark!Witch!Female Reader

Summary: The reader is addicted to the idea of love and Chase is addicted to the idea of ultimate power – both can help each other out.

Warnings: Movie spoilers for The Covenant (2006) and The Love Witch (2016). Supernatural elements [witchcraft], dark themes [mentions of death and really bad people] and smut [18+ only please].

Disclaimer: This story contains dialogue, characters and references taken from both films. It essentially follows the plot of The Covenant with a reader insert. The reader is loosely based on the main character of The Love Witch. I take no credit for any of those elements used. They belong to the creators of the films. I just wanted to try my hand at having these worlds crossover.

Title Inspiration: “Death of Me” by New Politics

A/N: I don’t know who still reads Chase Collins fanfics, but I wanted to get this one out. This will have multiple parts. Comments, likes and reblogs are all appreciated! Enjoy!

Now entering the town of Ipswich.

It’s a bit dreary, but that didn’t bother you. It always appeared as if a dark cloud followed you. Miles and miles away from the city you last called home, driven away by another failed attempt at a relationship – you were no stranger to those – was becoming somewhat of a routine for you.

The earliest unsuccessful relationship of yours recorded was with your parents. They were hardly a part of your life to begin. It wasn’t like you didn’t try at building one with them; they were the ones that didn’t. You might as well had been invisible to them. A parents’ love was the first kind of love one was supposed to encounter, and it was to be unconditional. They simply didn’t care for their own daughter and it hurt you. Maybe if they showed you any ounce of love or what it was really like perhaps you wouldn’t be so obsessed over trying to understand it. Ironically for two individuals who expressed no love at all, you had so much of it. It was just the matter of finding the right person to give it to.

For as long as you could remember, you’d been fending for your own. So, the first thing you did when you managed to save enough money, you packed up and left your parents. The next city was supposed to your second chance, but you were so young. You hadn’t even begun to plan your own future. Hell, you were living in the car you’d purchased on your own by accepting countless odd jobs and getting paid under the table. For a few months, you had waitressed at a small restaurant, where a group of interesting people, to say the least, caught your attention.

They were regulars to the eatery and had been watching you with a purpose. They could smell you were somewhat of a troubled youth that needed guidance. They welcomed you to their inner circle and soon into their coven. Yup, they were witches and surprisingly that didn’t bother you about them. They were good people to you. You owed it to whoever these people worshiped because they helped provide you an education, shelter, food and lessons in magic – practicing spells and concocting potions – and even more so in taking back control of your own life. This was now your family. You finally felt a sense of belonging with this group.

None of them had any actual internal powers, but they each individually excelled in different aspects of the craft. They taught you how to focus on concentrating energy, using your magic, to gain results; if you could achieve that you’d be the one in control, and essentially have power over the subject. You also learned that there were different types of witches – ones that were made into witches and ones born as witches. You had never known to encounter one that was born into a bloodline, but you had been warned that they would be much stronger than you, so that alone motivated you in perfecting the craft should one come to you as a threat.

You became enamored by witchcraft. You felt reborn through it. In a sense, it saved you. On top of that, you had nothing to lose, so why not sell your soul, right? While you certainly felt loved by the witches, you still yearned for a different type of love.

The first failed relationship in which you were intimately involved in was with a guy your age at the time. Looking back at it, you can’t help but to laugh. Oh boy, what a mistake that was.

With the help of your newfound family, you were able to enroll into the local high school. Unwanted attention came with the territory of being the new girl and you were no exception to one of the most sought-after guys in your class. The next thing you knew, you were losing your virginity to him then only for him to leave you the following day. At that tender age, you thought you loved him, and you wanted him to love you. This is why it was comical. What did you know about love at 16 anyway? So impressionable and so naive.

This was the first time you experimented with love spells and potions and he was your first victim. You had been warned about messing with love spells before, but what spell didn’t come without a warning? It seemed to work, but the more time you spent with him the less you wanted to. It turned out he wasn’t in any way what you wanted at all, an even bigger mess than you were portrayed...and maybe even loved you too much. At least that’s what was mentioned in his suicide note.

His death traumatized you for the first few months and the High Priestess decided it was best you continue elsewhere. Initially, that scared you because you thought they were kicking you out, but you were bonded to them and, with another warning about love spells, she assured you that there are plenty of their kind willing to take another in, you’d just have to be sworn in all over again.

As soon as you recovered a year later, with the immense support of your new coven, you were almost an adult and ready to find the one...the new one. And this one seemed to have it going for him. He was attractive, smart and respectable, but he just had too many feelings and it turned you off. He was a fucking pussy. You swore you could still hear his sobs ringing in your ears. You wanted to love a man, not care for a child. The mental institution he ended up being committed in would be able to give him that.

You moved on fairly quickly not wanting to be reminded of the previously failed conquest, however, you should’ve seen the next one coming, but, again, you were hopeful. Third time was not a charm, it was a tragedy. Two lost individuals, one with a broken past and the other battling with substance abuse, trying to find solace in each other was a recipe for disaster. His problems were soon becoming humdrum. As if you didn’t have any problems of your own to deal with, but who was ever there for you? He constantly ached and ached for you, begged for your help. Fucking clingy. You just couldn’t bring yourself to feel remorse for him anymore. Long story short, he’s six feet under a makeshift grave. Metaphorically, he had dug it on his own a long time ago.

Determined to bounce back, you found yourself traveling to a quaint colonial town in Massachusetts. A member of your previous coven recommended Ipswich and believed you would find the one in your cards there. Not sure whether or not to believe them or if “the one” really existed and was waiting for you, the notion of having nothing to lose decided for you and made Ipswich your new destination.

You’re unloading box after box in your single dorm room, a special request you made so you could practice magic in peace, when someone pokes their head in the door you left opened. It was only open because you weren’t able to drag in some of the larger boxes inside yet and they must’ve spotted them.

“Need any help?” The deep voice causes you turn to the doorway, where a guy, who’s tall, no doubt athletic, a head full of dark hair, a hint of innocence surrounding him, greets you with a sweet smile.

“Um, yeah actually,” you reply with a smile to match the tone. You could carry your own, but why turn down the free labor and perhaps even a show. He was cute. That much you deduced from watching the way his body moved, the skin that peeked out from when his shirt would ride up as he bent down and lifted boxes of your belongings into your room.

“Oh! Please be careful with that one!” You warn seeing the box he was currently handling marked as fragile. It contained some of your bottles and they were practically sacred to you. He absorbs the warning and places the particular box gently aside.

“I’m Tyler by the way,” he says after setting the final box next to your feet and standing upright with a respectable amount of distance between you two. You introduce yourself and offer a now genuine smile. You didn’t want to fall victim to yet another nightmare of a relationship, but you kept thinking about what your fellow member told you – the one is in Ipswich and the one could be in front of you right now.

Tyler ends up staying a little longer as you expected that night and you let him. He had a presence you didn’t feel with towards the others. There was just a different kind of energy there.

The two of you were getting along just fine, but you decided to take it upon yourself for safe measures with him and sneak in a little something you made. You say to yourself maybe he’s worth a shot. And he was. You went on a couple of dates with Tyler, met his three closes friends Caleb, Pogue and Reid, but you wouldn’t consider yourself close with them; they just came with the territory. Yet that energy Tyler had around him kept haunting you.

You weren’t sure if you were losing your touch or had a typo in your spell book, but you began to notice the effects didn’t last long with him in particular. He was almost immune to it. The spells were designed to enhance qualities and features about the other person and if you noticed any trend in using love spells was that it showed one’s true self.

Tyler started to become dull to you, like there was no sense of excitement with him. Harsh, not even magic could help you. Afterall, you can’t work with what’s already there. He had his looks going for him, he was a nice boy, and he was certainly several steps above the others in bed, but he never challenged you and you began forgetting he was even in the same room as you. You could’ve sworn he was about to cry when you told him you wanted to just be friends, but he accepted it because he was whipped. No backbone whatsoever. Well, at least he was still alive.

His loss would’ve probably hit you a little different because he was still a sweet guy…and you didn’t need to be given a reason to leave Ipswich too soon. You were just getting started here. His friends didn’t even seem to hold anything against you, not that you really cared. You weren’t interested in going down the line of the Sons of Ipswich; a little history lesson you learned from Kate, Pogue’s girlfriend, whom you unwillingly also formed a friendship with by default. Apparently, these boys were a little prominent here descending from four of the five families that colonized the town. Besides, if Tyler was boring, you weren’t willing to get into the whole mama’s boy routine Caleb kept up with and Reid proved to be too obnoxious for your own taste.

A private school full of rich kids like Spencer Academy, there were bound to be more guys at your disposal. You internally praised the member of your coven for recommending Ipswich. Your conquest to find real love never wanders too far off, but why not have some fun along the way?

Lately, you kept to yourself in your dorm; biding by with your teenage life in regularly attending your classes, occasionally hanging out with Kate – shopping or listening to her rant about another one of Pogue’s jealousy episodes – show face at Nicky’s once in a while and of course practice magic. There was a party tonight near the woods and almost everyone who was anyone was going to be in attendance. You thought you could use a break after a long week.

You parked your car nearby a bunch of others and managed to spot Kate waving you down to join her. Next to her was someone you hadn’t seen before. Kate introduced her to you as Sarah, her new roommate this semester. She seemed nice. Being in her shoes not too long ago, you decided to try and make her feel welcomed.

“So, tell me. Who is who that’s here,” Sarah asks, loosening up and it’s nice to see a sense of normalcy in your life; making new friends and having a good time like a person your age should. There’s a sense of danger and risk being at this party with violating trespassing signs, a huge fire and lots and lots of drugs and alcohol with underaged teenagers.

“First things first. Him over there,” Kate starts pointing at a source of one of your disgust, “that’s Aaron Abbot. He’s a prick. He treats girls like shit; just ask y/n.” Sarah looks at you with a look of curiosity and hint of concern, but you just give her a mix between a shrug and nod letting her know you’re okay and that Kate is right.

Aaron was someone you messed with in private to test a new potion out after failing with Tyler. You’d seen guys like Aaron before. If you learned anything from the first one it was that guys like Aaron were your textbook high school jackass. Thinking about it made your blood boil. The humiliation you felt when you realized he had only pursued you because you were fresh meat and to become just a notch on his bedpost. How’d that saying go? Fool me once shame on me, fool me twice…

If there was one other thing you loved more than the idea of love, it was sweet revenge. You anticipated for it to be nasty with Aaron after you cut ties with him. No one even seemed to believe him when he tried to spread awful things about you. You had a decent reputation at Spencer. You mentally praised yourself at job well done with that one. Maybe you weren’t losing your touch after all.

You briefly excused yourself from the girls to look for a drink. You scan the perimeter trying to locate a cooler, but you become distracted when you see a hint of a flash between some trees in your peripheral. As it occurred something seemed to also blow right past you; something you only felt with when in proximity of other supernatural elements, but yet unlike any other. You look to the other attendees and realize no one noticed anything unusual. When you look back towards the direction where the light came from, you see a figure walking out from the woods.

You take a hard look at the person trying to recognize them, but you don’t. A new guy. He’s got a certain swagger in his steps, dark hair tousled and a little spiked at the ends, a sharp jawline and eyes that were too dark for you be able to tell what color they really were, and it being nighttime didn’t aid you in figuring it out.

He must’ve caught your gaze because he’s now staring right back at you. His stare is cold, and you feel frozen, even unable to turn away. And yet again, something feels different and it only gets even more prominent the longer you look at him. You try not to ponder too long about it and decide to avoid him. You concentrate enough energy on your body until you were finally able to get yourself to walk away. Not wanting to stick around long enough for anything to come out of that, you continue your quest to find a drink, not looking back.

Unsuccessful, you head back towards the girls that were clearly in a scuffle with mega bitch Kira Snider, who is actually dating Aaron and has a personal vendetta against you. How were you supposed to know he was already dating her when you were fucking with him? Poor girl doesn’t love herself enough to be with trash like that.

You notice the Sons of Ipswich have already arrived and are trying to defend Kate and Sarah. Right before a fight is about to ensue, someone intervenes and successfully calms both parties down...well sort of. Kira didn’t really take too kindly at his words and Aaron at the puke that was dripping off the back of his letterman all of a sudden.

It was him. He looked a lot nicer up close. The guys thank him for helping diffuse the situation and you hear him introduce himself as Chase Collins. You can feel his eyes on you, but before the line of introductions could get to you, the DJ is announcing the party is a bust and the cops are zoning in. Soon, you break away from the group and take off in the direction of your parked car.

You happen to notice that Sarah is struggling to get her car started. You think about helping her, but see Reid is already on it. The sons are always saving the day, aren’t they? Was your last stance on that before you drove away from the scene. The adrenaline didn’t subside until you were on a clear road back to the housing buildings.

You just about have the key inserted and are about to unlock your door when you hear a voice.

“Some party, huh?” It sounded like just a couple of steps away.

You look down towards the hallway and see Chase standing a few doors down.

“It was kind of boring,” you admit. The only thing that would’ve probably made it exciting was if someone almost died.

He laughs lightly at that and nods showing he agreed to some degree.

“You didn’t have the least bit fun at all?” He asks.

You cock your head to the side a bit for show and pretend to think, but your mind was already made up. The party was a total bust and waste of your time, so no, you didn’t have any fun at all, but you could have some fun now. Hot guy you barely knew in front of you, attempting conversation – you thought he just had to have wanted something.

“You want to have some real fun?” You challenge as you reach deep into your coat pocket and produce a custom flask. It sparkles slightly from the lights of the hallway reflecting it as you wave it around giving him a devious look.

Chase presses his lips together and brings a hand to the back of his neck to rub at it, showing some form of nervous or conflicting habit, before looking around to see if anyone was watching this happen. You’re not sure what he’s thinking, but you don’t give him much time to reply and proceed to push open your door and walk in. You don’t close it though.

You’re shrugging off your coat and kicking off your shoes when you hear the door shut behind you. You smile to yourself because he’s fallen right into your trap.

“You know, I never got your name,” he says while admiring your room. The only source of light comes from a dimly lit lamp and the strings of light surrounding the tapestry against the wall next to your bed. You always kept your secret hidden and out of plain sight in fear of someone breaking in, so as far as you were concerned, you weren't at him catching onto anything.

“It’s y/n.”

Chase nods and says he likes it. You try not to roll your eyes at that before you turn his way, throwing the flask you were flaunting earlier in his direction and then plopping down on your bed. He swiftly catches it and walks towards the bed.

“You’re trouble, aren’t you?” He teases taking a seat next to you.

“Why don’t you find out?” You sit up matching him.

He smirks while unscrewing the cap and taking a swig. You watch as his initial reaction is to cringe at its contents. His eyes wring shut, nose scrunched up, lips pressed tightly together and the rest of his expression showing his body’s response at an attempt to process the hard liquor.

“Shit! That’s fucking strong,” he comments staring at the flask as if he could see through the silver and inspect the liquid.

“Finish it,” you command, your voice was smooth but still assertive – a deadly combination. He’s almost hypnotized by your cold and striking stare, he only feels compelled to listen. You observe the way his lips shone from the liquid that coated it, the way his throat contracted when he swallowed it down and how he peeked through one of his eyes to get a look at you watching him ingest every last drop and when he’s done he lunges at you. Chase doesn’t miss a beat when his lips meld with yours.

You pull him down and closer by the lapels of his thick coat before you’re kicking at the ends of it with your bare feet trying to help you rid him of it. You momentarily feel all his weight press into you as he nimbly tries to remove the outerwear, his lips never leaving yours. You hear a click at your door and pull away from him to see if someone had entered.

You don’t see any sign of disturbance, but you could’ve sworn you heard something. Chase doesn’t let that distract you as he brings you in by grabbing the back of your neck to reconnect your lips with his. The moment he slips his tongue in to meet with yours you melt. You had to stress this one, but he was a really good kisser. You might’ve met your match as his tongue continued to show dominance against yours.

His drive only fuels you and you’re able to summon enough strength to roll over and get him underneath your body. You place a few kisses on his face and neck, running your hands down his clothed chest before you lift the end of his shirt up to reveal his toned torso and also begin planting kisses there as well.

Your fingers deftly unfasten his belt and pop open the front of his dark jeans. Chase lets out a small sigh in finding relief to the sudden tightness in his clothing. The sound of you slowly dragging down his zipper is loud. It’s only that excruciating because you’re taking your sweet time. You pull apart his pants to get a close look at what you’re going to be dealing with. The outline of his cock just with what you can make out through his boxers is rather impressive. It twitches from your hot breath due to the close proximity.

You shoot him a crooked smile before wrapping a hand around his length. He hisses at the action and tries his best to keep his hips grounded as you continue to stroke him and every now and then give a little squeeze to his heavy balls, the soft vibrations of your nails scratching through the fabric torturing him. Cute. He’s trying to hold back. So, you kick it up a notch by licking a fat strip along the base and ignoring the fabric that sticks to your tongue.

It works because suddenly Chase props himself with one hand behind him and using the other to grab yours, the one that is still gripping at the waistline of his jeans and he stares you down. This is the first time you’re getting a good look at him; at the eyes you couldn’t make out earlier and make a mental note of what color they were. He’s fucking gorgeous. Clouded with lust, you don’t even sense it but it’s almost like you’re under a spell until you feel the tight grip he has on you loosen up and he lies back down allowing you to carry on.

You sit up, between his spread legs and reach around to pull his footwear off. He instinctively lifts his hips up when your fingers sneak their way into the elastic of his boxers. You expertly pull them down along with his jeans before they’re joining the rest of his clothes on the floor.

You reclaim your position back on top, your dress draping over his exposed bottom half as you straddle him. Chase’s hands start bunching up the material to caress the soft skin of your thighs and hips before he’s tugging at it. You help him and cross your arms to pull the material over your head and leave you in your undergarments.

Chase runs his tongue along his lips and sucks in a harsh breath taking in your appearance. You love the way he’s biting his lip when you add pressure into grinding your clothed core onto his bare one; so much you want to see him draw blood. The material of your underwear is so thin, it slides off to the side with each passing grind of your hips that get sloppier and sloppier than the next, it’s now skin on skin contact. You feel the ridges and prominent under vein scrape across your growingly wet pussy along with the way the crown of his engorged cock nudges deliciously against your clit.

You’re gripping harshly at his shirt; it starts to stretch when you pull it in a downwards motion because the sensation you’ve both created from the constant gyrations causes a rise out of you. You feel Chase grab at the rolled-up material and pull it down your legs. When you’ve discarded of it, he takes over reigns this time and kicks your legs apart to make room for him.

The unseen and unspoken tension between you two was enough foreplay in itself. There’s no hesitation when he slips right into you. It’s a smooth entrance from how wet you from the grinding and the cum that managed to escape prematurely from him. There’s an abundance of euphoria that the each of you emote from the ragged breathing, provocative moans to the sting of your skin slapping.

You think this isn’t anything more than pure want, but with a snap of his hips, you feel another strange feeling blow right through you. It was like the one you felt at the party, only a little more intense, but you didn’t even have time to mull over it when he finds the right spot in you. He hits it repeatedly and he’s not missing at all.

Chase sees the spaced-out look on your face, so he starts kissing you again. Your limbs wrap themselves around his body as you tightly cling onto him. Your hands desperately rake themselves on his back, trying to hold on from the immense pleasure he’s brewing in you, but you have a hard time with his pesky shirt still on until you finally manage to pull it over his head and have him fully naked.

His grunts and moans increase in volume when your walls retaliate by clenching around him from the perfect aim of his thrusts. You bring his head up to yours and smoosh your lips together with his. Chase then hooks an arm under one of your legs and hikes that leg up higher for a better angle. It’s so good you let out a string of lewd moans that causes your lips to repeatedly pull away from his. You curse at the insane amount of pleasure that he’s giving you like none of the others have before. You even catch the stupid smug look on his face when your orgasm washes over you. You grip tightly a handful of his cheeks, your hips lifting off the bed as they press against his to leave absolutely no space in between and in the process effectively allowing him to completely bottom out. You wanted to feel every inch of him when it happened.

He places a hand next to your head to help his stance, it’s a shaky one because he’s just about ready to bust. The tempo Chase sets, so relentless, had caused your breasts to bounce out of the confines of your bra.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he warns shamelessly. The way your breasts swayed, the harsh intake of each breath evident from the sight of your stomach tightening and untightening, your legs quivering around him and the fact that you were still riding through the aftershocks of your release, your walls were helplessly fluttering around him – just watching you wrecked with the satisfaction he brought on should’ve done it for him right then and there.

“Then cum,” you dare at him, your lips brushing his with each word that comes out next, “inside me…do it.” And like a snap of your fingers, you feel Chase spill deep inside you. You open your eyes wide enough and see something unusual when you look at him. A ring of fire flashes in his eyes very briefly before he closes them from the exhilaration. Each pump of cum that shoots out of him is followed by the accompanied throb that causes the head of his cock to poke at your sweet spot again, and in doing so initiates a small tidal wave of pleasure to crash right through you again.

Once he regained some composure and control of his breathing, his eyes reopen and they’re back to normal. Guess you were just seeing stars, or fire, in him. You carefully cup at his face with both hands and absentmindedly trace along at his boyish features; from the brow line of his eyebrows to the tip of his nose. He’s a fucking work of art. A lethargic smile splays out across his mouth and you return the display of affection with a smile of your own and giving him a kiss, which he immediately reciprocates to; no tongue or fervor in it, just of sweet contentment.

While it was good, more than good, you’re too sensitive, you’re not sure if you have enough in you for a second go. Careful to not elicit another round, you wiggle your hips a bit with him still inside in hopes to get him to move off of you.

Chase slowly and cautiously pulls out, and you feel the trickle of his cum leaking out of you. He inwardly praises at the filthy sight of it all before settling next to you. As you’re about to drift off into sleep, your mind starts turning. Something about Chase made you feel strange. There was a different aura about him, and it was evoking a certain emotion from you.

A/N: This is me holding back on smut. This series is going to be quick because as mentioned, it’s The Covenant just with a reader and her own agenda caught in the crossfire...and an excuse for me to write Chase Collins smut, so if you're craving some of that then stick around!

#chase collins smut #chase collins x reader #chase collins x y/n #chase collins x you #chase collins imagine #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan x reader

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quidfree · 4 years

Note

That’s ok! How about #6 for James/Sirius, thanks for doing this!

this could have gone in a lot of directions but since sirius initiated the last one i’ve gone w this setting - and also alternated POVs bc i needed some sirius perspective this time around.

6: i’m sorry kiss

when he awakens in the middle of the night, a tattoo beating through his dreams, to the muffled sounds of conversation in his foyer, it’s equal parts disorienting and expected. in some way, he feels like it’s a dream; in another, he feels like he was waiting for this all night, all week, for five summers, maybe.

it’s somewhere past two in the morning when james pads downstairs, almost tripping over himself, and his parents are in their gowns by the door, faces open and welcoming, and sirius is silhouetted between them, comically out of place in the normalcy of the potter home, all sleek inky lines and barely constrained thunder. he looks to james immediately, instinctively, before james has even looked up from the stairs; it’s a dog thing, probably.

sirius doesn’t look thunderous now. sirius looks misplaced like james has seen him maybe once before, and there’s something almost- he doesn’t know. maybe fragile. something fragile to his gaze.

sirius is never fragile. sirius is not the impenetrable fortress he thinks- everyone thinks- he is, but sirius is steel under silk, inflexible beneath the theatrics. there is a fragility to his moodswings, a delicacy to his passions, but even at his most upset sirius always commits himself fully to his rages, to his sorrows. james is sure that when he left grimmauld place he was not fragile, that he was at his very best-worst, raging and contemptuous and blazing with passion. it makes this fragility somehow james’ responsibility, and he is overcome with the intense need to force it back down wherever it came from, like it’s its fault that sirius even considers james might turn him away now.

it has to be that- the uncertainty. he’s not being egotistical. sirius is afraid of nothing because nothing has power over him. james has power over him, ergo sirius can be afraid of james, sometimes, just within those infinitesimal spaces where sirius thinks they’re on uneven footing. sirius can be stupid like that, because those uneven spaces where sirius is not in control are the ones where james is utterly controlled by him. james is perfectly content to tussle for obedience with sirius at his very meanest, but for sirius unmoored he will do anything, thoughtlessly.

he doesn’t voice this, because even diluted to its purest form if he said “sirius, you are a lovely idiot” right now his parents would find it very mean. so instead he hops the last step and shoves through the space left between his parents and drags sirius physically into the realm of the living, big swooping hug that is more bone-crushing than comforting, he’s sure, but then with sirius that’s sort of the same thing. he lifts sirius off his feet, almost, even though sirius is still damnably taller than him and he’s starting to suspect he will be for the rest of their days. sirius does not sag bonelessly into him, all unfriendly sharp angles like always, but his fingers clench and unclench reflexively near his stomach and when he puts him down his gaze has refocused.

“all right?” james asks, simply, still holding onto his arms, eyes catching onto the mottled bruise under his eye and the bloody scrape down his palm, cataloguing the one bulky suitcase by his feet and the faint hum of an engine nearby.

“all right,” sirius echoes, mirror that he is, and he’s not really lying so james allows it.

they detach in unison, and james glances very briefly at both of his parents with all of his well-honed powers of persuasion, but he can tell it’s not warranted. it’s not like they’re short on money, and his parents adore sirius.

“i’ll go park my bike,” sirius says, and james, very briefly, is dizzy with the knowledge that in sirius’ mind there existed some reality where james would say no, somehow. he recovers in record time, sticks his hands into the pockets of his flannel bottoms.

“i’ll get us butterbeers,” he says, knowing no one will protest. sirius nods.

they’re still not allowed to use magic outside of hogwarts, underage as they are, but james and sirius have spent years testing loopholes for this sort of thing, so he knows he can get away with a little (or a lot, even, if you consider transfiguring yourself into an animal a lot), waves his wand so the drinks are fixed in record time. his mother hugs him to her, sighing a little, then steps back.

“i’m glad he’s here now.”

“so am i,” james says. then, feelingly: “i hate his family.”

“i know, darling.”

he really does, is the thing, genuinely hates them, and he doesn’t hate anyone, not really. maybe voldemort and his lot, but then he doesn’t know any of them, except sirius’ family, and god, he really hates them. hates them with a sort of incredulous edge, because he doesn’t understand anyone who can mistreat sirius. and he knows he’s had it easy and his parents love him more than anything but it still just doesn’t compute that there are families out there who exude cruelty in their every interaction, who nurse their babies on spite, who handle insubordination with vicious rage, and who can’t fathom that they’re in the wrong for it.

never mind them, anyways. sirius has left and sirius is fine, will be fine, now. james won’t spare them a thought again.

his father levitates sirius’ bag upstairs, and they duplicate his mattress so sirius has somewhere to sleep, but it’s more for sirius’ peace of mind than anything else. if they do manage to get sirius to sleep at all it won’t be on his own bed.

“here,” james says, when sirius reappears, handing him a change of clothes and a toothbrush. “you can use my towel.”

sirius blinks down at him, takes the offering. “this is my shirt.”

it is. james doesn’t know how it ended up in his possession, but then that’s true of most things between them.

he thinks, as he listens to sirius shower, quick and efficient and not at all the hour-long dramatics he’s used to from hogwarts, that he is maybe a terrible person, because in a way he’s almost glad sirius’ family is so horrible, so sirius can just be here, where he belongs, in james’ house with all the rest of james’ things. and that makes him sound creepy, and crazy, and he doesn’t mean it like that, but he doesn’t know how to put it otherwise.

he’s sure he never used to think about these things so much. all of this weird interpersonal introspection. that’s sirius’ influence. sirius complicates things, and paradoxally makes them easier. sirius is so odd, and so unlike him, and yet somehow they are exactly the same, and sometimes-

the shower cuts off, and james runs a hand through his hair, stops thinking so much. sirius is here now but sirius is in a state, most likely, and until that’s fixed the rest doesn’t matter.

—

when he re-enters the bedroom james is sat on his bed with a knee propped under his chin, snitch between his fingers like he’d caught it just before sirius came in, and he looks like he has on a thousand other nights, tousled and sleep-warm but alert, brown eyes and a keen gaze. home, something in sirius says, very confidently, home home home home.

something else in him, unflinching and cold and defensive, stays wary. this is almost more instinct than the other, because rationally he knows it’s fine, now; he’s at james’, james won’t turn around and kick him out like a jackass. but ever since he realised he was actually leaving his defences have been on high alert, fight or flight, and it keeps his limbs stiff with tension, his thoughts knife-sharp despite the comfort.

showering helped. the shirt helped. james staring at him helps. he wants to not need to be helped.

james pats the bed, offering silently, so sirius goes, drops into the spot next to him, curls his legs up underneath himself. his thoughts are a strident buzz and he knows he’s not spoken properly since he word-vomited all over the potters on arrival but he doesn’t like the silence, not for right now, only he doesn’t know what to say. or rather he does, can think of plenty of things to say that would make james stop looking like that, except he can’t quite say them, so he just sits there and takes the silence.

“we were going to go into london over the weekend,” james says, catching and releasing the snitch, over and over, thoughtlessly. “dad and i, i mean. buy some new quidditch stuff. i don’t suppose you want a broom.”

“i’ve told you a million times-”

“yeah, yeah,” james says, rolls his eyes, “when you fix up that piece of junk it’ll fly better than any broom, sure, live your delusions.”

sirius almost smiles at that, but: “i don’t have any money, anyways. i don’t have anything, currently. my wand and some shit i shoved into that suitcase.” it makes his lips curl, bleakly: “don’t have the money to buy my textbooks, even. reckon dumbledore’ll let me do without?”

“don’t be an idiot,” james says, firmly. “you live here, now, don’t you? my parents’ll cover it.”

“i don’t,” sirius starts, then stops, because this is so predictable, all of it, i don’t want their charity, except he does, evidently, or he can live with it, because otherwise he’d not have run straight here. he’s had time to think about this, despite the recklessness of his departure. he hates to be a burden and he hates to be dependent but in this regard it’s something he’s resigned himself to.

“they’re as good as your parents,” james continues, after a beat. which is funny because they’re better, actually, given that he has no parents- he suffers no delusions that walburga didn’t blast him off the tapestry the moment his feet hit the pavement.

“we hardly pass for brothers, prongs.”

“your in-laws, then,” james adjusts, unconcerned, and that makes sirius crack the slightest of smiles, despite himself, glance sideways to raise a brow at him.

“in that case i’ve missed something, i think.”

“you mean the marriage contract we had you sign at the door?” james asks, switching tracks seamlessly into well-humoured mockery, his expression wholly innocent. “you’re just such a catch at the moment, you know. had to sweep you up before any other blood traitor family got their bid in.”

“i have always gotten that vibe from molly weasley,” sirius throws back, and smiles again when james laughs, because molly weasley is as far from interested as it can get.

“seriously, though,” james says, sobering. “i don’t just mean money, although you will have noticed that we aren’t exactly lacking it. this is yours, now. all right? has been for a while.”

by this he means this house, and this room, and the borrowed shirt, and himself, probably, because sirius only has claim to the rest through him, and that’s- fine. that is fine. relying on james potter is something he can do.

his shoulders relax a fraction; he picks at the bedsheet (all red and gold all over, bright and proud and comfortable), lets stray strands of his hair fall into his eyes. it’s as long as it’s ever been; he’s been growing it out all summer in strident rebellion, regrowing whatever walburga cuts off, and it hands below his chin now, wildly uncombed.

he wants to say something to close this chapter, so it can be over, so they can move on, like they inevitably will, but the receding clasp of panic has left something heavy in his chest, all blood and bone and inherited poison, and he finds purging it harder than expected. if he were the crying type he expects he would cry, now, but then if he were the crying type he never would’ve ended up here.

he focuses very hard on thinking about it, runs relentlessly through his memories to remember why he hates his family so entirely. he tears down hazy memories of laughter and regulus’ little hand in his, recounts instead months of cruelty and ignorance and shouted arguments, sullen silences and bitterness, and lets it fester in his chest, lets it burn. he doesn’t want peace- he wants righteousness, and he has that in spades.

“i like your hair,” james announces, while grimmauld place crumbles to the ground in flames. sirius looks up. “reckon it’d look stupid on anyone else, but it suits you.”

“thanks,” sirius replies. he’s not quite adjusted enough for cockiness, and besides for some reason the compliment has destabilised him a little, so that he stares down at his butterbeer and then bites his lip. “there was no particular reason.”

“today?” james asks, though he knows, knew; he’s just being helpful, vocalising. sirius nods.

“i always thought there would be. after all the years. the shit i’ve heard them say. i thought at some point it would get- well, i guess it did, in a way. get worse. but not today.”

he finishes his butterbeer on reflex, sets it down. as a rule they don’t talk about these things. it’s generally because sirius doesn’t like to, because he doesn’t like to be vulnerable, mostly because he doesn’t think james can get it and doesn’t want him to. tonight, though, they’re closing a chapter, so it feels expected somehow.

“they’re supporting voldemort openly, now. i didn’t say in my letters. bellatrix and her husband joined over lent, and the malfoys over summer. they were before, i suppose, only not so fully. my parents- they’ve always been the more conservative pair. not keen on supporting any outsiders. but regulus, he...” he trails off, shakes his head. doesn’t want to say it. “he just adores him. the dark lord. fucking spineless moron. and i’ve known that all summer, but for some reason today it just- i don’t know. i saw him leave his room and i just thought to myself, like, what the fuck am i doing here? with these people? and the rest of the evening i was thinking about it, and we started arguing, and while that was happening i knew i was leaving. i couldn’t stay. if i’d stayed longer i’d have offed myself.”

the thing is he means it, but then he never would take his own life, so he’d come to james, like he was inevitably always going to. sometimes sirius has wondered about what his life might have been like, elsewhere, but life without james is an impossibility. it’s not sentimental; it’s fact, and he believes it as much as he believes anything. the two of them fundamentally exist to exist simultaneously. can’t be done otherwise.

james taps a rhythm out against his knee, leans to set his butterbeer down too. he scoots closer gracelessly, brows set and eyes serious, and sirius stills but doesn’t stiffen, lets him into his space.

“i’m sorry,” james says, calloused fingertips on the ridge of his foot. he says it gravely, but not sadly, and sirius can’t imagine what james might possibly be sorry for, opens his mouth to protest, gets cut off before he can. “i’m sorry your family is fucking awful. and i’m sorry that i’m sort of happy they are.”

“that is fucked up,” sirius remarks, undecided as to how he feels, chest tight nonetheless. james only shakes his head.

“i was thinking about it earlier and i didn’t know how to tell you, but i figure you’ll understand. it’s just-” he pauses, scrunches his nose in thought. “it’s good that you’re here now, yeah? that’s why. i’m happy you’re here. it feels right that you are.”

sometimes james is charmingly naive, if he thinks some creepy underlying statement of possession isn’t exactly the sort of thing sirius loves to hear him say. he drags his gaze away only so that he doesn’t look too obvious about it. “yeah. i understand.”

“sometimes,” james continues, thoughtful now, “i feel like you and me are the only two people that exist in the world. you know?”

sirius does. sirius does very much. he wants to clear his throat but doesn’t like to do so, nods instead, turns back. “all the time, jamie.”

“right,” james says, “course you do.”

he looks- something, relieved or enlightened or conspiratorial or guilty or some mixture of all of them, and sirius feels his lungs expand with abrupt ease, so physical a release that he actually shivers a little. this is fine. he’s fine. this is james.

“i am sorry, though,” james repeats, and this time sirius gets it, and so forgives him, even though he could never resent james for anything, even though he will always resent his family for everything.

“yeah,” he says, aloud. a little shaky. forgiveness tastes foreign. “i know you are.”

he doesn’t know how it comes out but there is something blazing in james eyes for a moment, and then his hand is threading through sirius’ hair and he’s tugging him in, not so fast that he couldn’t stop him if he liked, but fast anyways because both of them know he won’t. sirius sits still and watches james kiss him, then closes his eyes.

it tastes like the following: a baptism, divine absolution, and teenaged boy, butterbeer-sweet and somewhere between tender and boyishly rough. sirius is sure the latter is for his benefit, because james can be very pleasant if he wants, but gentleness makes sirius on edge.

it feels good. he could think himself into a stupor but he doesn’t want to, just sits there and takes it, licks his lips when james pulls back. it’s not technically the best kiss he’s ever had, or anything; it was chaste by most standards. sirius thinks he may never kiss anyone else again.

“think that’s supposed to come before the marriage contract,” he says. james’ eyes are bright and content and he’s not fine, he’s good, things are good.

“was saving it for the wedding night,” james says, a brilliant flash of white teeth, and hooks a leg around his waist to reel him in, possessive and friendly and familiar all in one. sirius goes easily, doesn’t know where, but james just wraps them up in each other and tips them over, face to face on his bed, half tangled in the covers.

i love you, he thinks, fiercely, digging his heel into james’ shin until it hurts a little.

james doesn’t shake him off, and that says it all.

#qui ecrit #prongsfoot #anon #prompt #james #sirius #lmv #my fic #good job op

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hcldmedcwn · 4 years

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the one in which they're an established couple living together and remus likes sharing things. alternatively, the one where i can't stop thinking about richard harmon and his denim jacket and that one quote that is like 'i love him on purpose'.

If sharing things was a love language, that'd be Remus'.

As it turns out, his seems to be physical touch, but sharing would come as a close second if it could. There's nothing that can't be shared in his life. There's an unmatched happy, warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach every time he gets to share a bite of his food with people he loves, or tuck under the same blanket, or lend his favorite books.

And clothes, too.

Because he has a denim jacket, yes, but his has a double coating of fur all over the insides, which makes it too warm to wear in this vaguely chilly mid-season weather. Severus' denim jacket, on the other hand. His is just denim, save for the fluffy collar, which is solely for stylistic purposes, so it'd only make sense that Remus should pick that one to wear today.

Logical, of course.

And then the emotional non-coherent probably more wolf-driven part of his brain just says hmmmm significant other jacket, fuzzy happy feeling inside!!!!

Significant other is a pretty bland term, but he still feels odd using anything else. Boyfriend makes them sound like kids. Partner is a close one, but begs clarification, otherwise they may sound like a couple of auror work buddies on duty. They're living together, which makes them feel like husbands if you pair that with the constant bantering, but no one's made that move yet.

"That's my jacket," Severus points out, stopped in the middle of his way out the door.

Remus hums around a mouthful of coffee before he swallows. "Yes."

There's a pause. He expects teasing to follow, or some stupid badly timed joke, or anything, really -- he gets silence. Severus is still hovering there, in the kitchen, not making a move to reach the front door. He's gonna be late if he just stays frozen there for much longer.

Maybe it's just too early in the morning to banter. Maybe Severus has skipped his morning coffee and his brain needs to be kicked into gear. "I stole it," Remus gracefully supplies the opening.

Severus squints a little, in the way he always does that makes Remus' chest bubble with hysterical laughter because what the fuck are you thinking?! There's no one in the world harder to read than Severus Snape. It should be easier by now, they live together, and yet. In moments like these, the werewolf feels like he's trying to pick up context clues from a wall. Is he upset? Is he annoyed? Is he happy? Impossible to know.

"It was in my closet?" Severus says, half-statement, half-question, his expression still guarded. He looks bewildered, now. There's a glint of puzzlement in his eyes as he scans over the jacket.

"Yes. Indeed. The crime was premeditated."

More silence.

Remus finds his brows furrowing as he tries to work out the connection between what Severus is saying, and what Severus isn't saying. They've shared clothes before, he knows this isn't just that. There's always been a coat thrown over the back of the couch that gets picked up by whoever's passing, scarves and gloves hung by the door that have no defined owners anymore. They're pretty similar in size and they have similar taste in muggle fashion, it's fitting that they'd end up sharing a lot. In fact, he's pretty sure he has worn this very denim jacket before, either given it when he got cold on a walk, or picked up by accident thinking it was his own when their clothes were in a pile somewhere.

And then-- ah. Then it hits him.

It's the intent. Every other time it's been a thing of the circumstances, a casual happenstance, an act gone by without much thought. Grab the nearest coat, grab the nearest scarf, wear whatever you got on hand for the sake of being practical. It's never been just that for Remus, but he supposes the excuses were there, if you were looking for them.

This is the first time he has actively stuck his thieving little hands into Severus' side of the closet and deliberately picked out something to wear.

He wonders if all the silence is Severus being upset about sharing clothes, when all the other times, he's been okay with it because it has been excused. For that, he carefully adds, "is that not okay? Did you want to wear it today?" He hopes the second question helps giving the other an easy way out, if he feels too rude just saying don't wear my clothes. Not that Severus often chooses to skirt around his boundaries, they're way past that. And Remus wouldn't be upset.

"No," he answers instead, rather quickly.

"No for which?"

"I don't remember what you asked." Severus' voice is comically genuine in his deadpan, and their eyes meet for the first time since this weird conversation started.

Remus can't help the fond, snorted laughter that crawls up his throat at that, but he kills it quickly, for the sake of not sacrificing a delicate moment. He still hasn't made a move to take the jacket off. Severus still hovers there, but he doesn't look upset, or mad. He seems to be processing. The werewolf foolishly hopes for the best, as he often does these days.

"Do you want me to put the jacket back?"

Severus shakes his head, and with it, he seems to shake off all the confusion. The processing seems to be done, and Remus is relieved to see his lips curl up in a muted smile. "No, keep it. It's fine."

Fine. How romantic. The werewolf lets himself laugh, this time.

"You're gonna be late," he takes another sip of his coffee, cringes at how it's already gone cold and watches his partner move. "Try not to get too distracted thinking about me in your jacket today."

Severus lets out an indignant huff on his way to the door, but Remus catches sight of the growing grin just before he turns. "Try not to get your werewolf stench on it, I just cleaned that."

"You love my werewolf stench!" He calls, obnoxiously loud as the door closes, and he swears he hears Severus snicker from the other side.

#drabble #third alternative title: in which severus processes fuzzy feelings

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measurelessdreamer · 5 years

Text

New Olivarry fic!

The impossible happened and I managed to write (probably) my last Olivarry fic and I’m actually proud of myself XD If you want, feel free to read it here or down below! <3

Coffee Beans And Cakes, It's You For Whom My Heart Aches

Summary: Barry Allen thought he was done with love. He had missed out all his chances and if love was supposed to be only unrequited in his case, then what the hell was the point? So he filled his life with routines and small pleasures to keep himself going and convince himself he was okay. He hadn't anticipated one of those routines would eventually sabotage him and turn his whole life around, but sometimes you just need to live in a lie for a while to be able to see the truth. Barry learned that the hard way.

Relationships: Barry Allen/Oliver Queen

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Slow Burn

Words: 13268

It was three o'clock in the afternoon when Barry finally turned off his computer and hurried out of his lab, waving both Joe and Eddie with a smile, silently dodging their offers to accompany him which they both knew were fruitless to ask. It was his habit to stop by Jitters for his favorite kind of coffee and spend a few minutes in solitude just sipping and relishing the bittersweet taste he knew so well and today was no different. Being already twenty-nine, it was only normal to have his life filled with small routines like this that ultimately were the sole reason why he was able to be himself and not just some kind of zombie, struggling to see the point in waking up in the morning. Don't get him wrong. Sometimes, days got rough and he was on the zombie spectrum more than he would actually like, but when that happened, it was small pleasures like this that got him back to smiling and simply enjoying what he was supposed to no matter how much other people considered it crucial.

Nothing new ever happened during his afternoon visits to Jitters. He just loved that where people were usually swarming inside like bees in their hives he could have a peaceful time and think. It was liberating in ways not many people would understand but he didn't care. He just knew he wouldn't change this routine for anything. As hectic as his life sometimes was, this was something he wanted to keep intact no matter what. Too bad destiny had other ideas.

As expected, there were only a few people inside. One man was standing by the cash register, strikingly aggravated by the debate he was having with the barista, which Barry supposed looked more like an argument despite how the man, probably in his thirties, was trying to stay calm. Barry moved to stand a few feet next to him in a queue he just created, patiently waiting for his turn. He absolutely didn't mean to eavesdrop, his parents and Joe had raised him better than that, but he was standing right there and it wasn't his fault the man was apparently losing his patience and raising his voice as the result. Besides, he couldn't simply leave his spot unless he decided to skip the coffee and go home, which in his mind was not an option. Not even some uptight customer would change that, thank you very much.

So he just stood there and listened because what else was really there to do?

"Sir, I apologize, but I've already told you that this cake is reserved for the couple’s menu only. Feel free to choose any other, though. Surely we can come to an agreement we'll both like," the female barista said, doing her utmost best to remain as polite as possible even though Barry could see her resolve was on the brink of despair.

"I don't want any other cake," the man stated. "It's my son's favorite, always has been. We have it every time we're here. It never was 'reserved for a couple’s menu only' before so why now?"

"It's our policy to include some desserts for only specific types of menus and I'm sorry, but I don't make these rules."

"I understand, but can't you make an exception just this once? You'll get your money either way. Besides, it's not like this place is filled with people fighting for this particular cake and you're gonna close soon anyway."

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do, sir," the barista sighed and looked genuinely sorry and annoyed by this stupid policy too, but her hands were tied. Her boss probably wasn't one of the kindest people on this planet.

"Of course," the man scoffed. "It's funny, though. Not sure when exactly love of couples started being more important than love for your own damn child." The venom behind those words was borderline outrageous, even more, when Barry noticed how it made the barista slump her shoulders in defeat and shame, but it was probably the thing that caused Barry's life to change so radically that day. While everyone else would most likely judge the man for being too harsh on the woman, Barry focused on this customer's reasoning and intentions that were definitely meant to be good and decided to help out. That was how he'd been raised after all.

"Actually," he spoke, causing the barista to look at him, "he's here with me." What happened next was downright comical as the man literally froze mere inches before the exit door and spun around to gape, unabashed, at this man he'd never seen before, claiming they were a couple.

As tempted as Barry was to burst out laughing on spot, he formed a smile and turned to the barista that was staring him down skeptically. She wasn't stupid. Of course it was obvious he didn't know the man that just made his way back to them, still gaping at him, but then again, it wasn't like they needed some license or document to show they were dating. They just needed to convince her to either believe them or take pity on them. Whichever came first.

"I'm sorry about him," he started again, motioning to the man next to him. "He's not much of a people person, but he means well."

"And he's your boyfriend," the woman summarized, not buying a single word, and glanced at the other man. "Why didn't you say so before? You must have noticed him coming here."

"We usually keep it quiet. He's a bit shy, you know?" Barry clarified, letting his eyes fall on the man and locking them with his on instinct, suddenly finding it nearly impossible to look anywhere else besides the magnificent shade of blue boring into his. He almost forgot he was supposed to make sure the barista bought his little act. "Darling, I told you, you should've waited for me. We would've solved this together and spared your nerves. As much as I like the grey strands in your hair, smiling suits you better."

At this comment, the man openly glared at him, but his eyes, those incredibly pretty eyes, were glinting with amusement that kept Barry's smile intact without him even putting real effort in it.

"I was waiting for you," the man joined in. "for full ten minutes even. It's not my fault you're always late, honey."

"Seems that supertardiness is one of my powers. Glad it didn't stop you from falling in love with me."

"Believe me, I'm questioning myself about this all the time," the man teased and smirked.

Barry couldn't contain the small chuckle escaping his lips and the absolute wonder that this whole charade was going so well despite them having no clue who the other person was. Barry was too old to believe in fairytales, but part of him never stopped being a dreamer. It was probably why this connection between him and the blue-eyed stranger seemed to be almost magical like it wasn't just random luck but a plan in the grand scheme of things. But that was just silly and he was the fool for imagining otherwise when he was probably the only one feeling this.

Once he couldn't face these thoughts without breaking off his act of a loving boyfriend, he glanced at the barista and found her looking at them with an odd expression. Some sort of mixture of amusement and intrigue, probably, but then again he was only skilled in reading criminals per se, so he could be wrong. He put the question of figuring it out later to the back of his mind before he broke the silence that was on the brink of becoming awkward. "Could we have the couple’s menu, please?"

The woman snapped out of whatever trance she was in and beamed at them without any trace of her previous embarrassment intact, taking in their coffee orders and asking for their names, for which Barry was more grateful than ever since it was the most subtle way of finding out who the man was he could hope for.

"Barry." "Oliver." They both said at the exact same time, momentarily stunning the whole party. Barry's eyes once again met Oliver's, already getting lost in them and their spellbinding glimmer as if he had nothing better to do that day than openly stare.

"You seemed to be in real sync," the woman pointed out as she was writing the names right into the huge red hearts decorating the cups that were most definitely ordered for the sole purpose of labeling everyone who proved to be worthy of getting the couple's menu. It was sweet, but all Barry could do was inwardly laugh about it when he noticed how Oliver glared at the cups. "Does this happen a lot?"

"Oh, yeah, all the time. We're practically the same person," Barry answered and saw the tiny smile playing on Oliver's lips from the corner of his eyes for what it was, ignoring how elevated it instantly made him.

"You're really lucky, then," the woman said and smiled so warmly Barry almost started regretting they were so openly lying to her. But only almost.

"Hear that, Ollie? You're lucky to have me," he teased and, for reasons he probably won't ever be able to grasp, bumped his shoulder against Oliver's. He had no idea where this boldness came from, but the man next to him didn't recoil or stiffen and he decided to take that as a good sign.

"You shouldn't encourage him," Oliver said to the barista, shaking his head. "He's insufferable enough as he is."

"Says the guy who wanted to burn this whole place down minutes ago," Barry countered. "Don't you think an apology is in order? You're the one that keeps telling me agreements and rules are here to be followed not broken every time I'm late."

This time it was Oliver who moved closer, not out of fake affection like Barry had, though. Not that it really mattered to Barry's hammering heart once he felt a strong arm hooking around his shoulders and spreading warmth through his whole body as he heard the blue-eyed stranger whisper: "You're playing with fire."

However bewildered Barry was from the whole situation, he didn't let this intimidate him. "Do you want me to tell certain someone we both know that it's okay not to apologize for being a bit of a jerk?"

"I was not-" Oliver began but his words came up short when Barry just arched one of his eyebrows at him. He was probably having too much fun with this, but after having such a boring day at work, this was exhilarating to the bone and he couldn't get enough of it. "Fine," Oliver sighed in defeat and aimed his next words at the barista, who was once again dedicating them that same odd look like before. She smiled after hearing Oliver's apology and waved with her hand, saying she understood Oliver's outrage at the policy she didn't see the point of either.

"See?" Barry remarked and smiled. "Wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Oliver merely chuckled and only then let go of Barry's shoulders, making him involuntarily wonder why it caused a small downfall to his mood not to be so close to the older man anymore.

The barista once again saved him from any more uncomfortable questions his brain was so fond of sending his way when she asked whether they wanted to have the cake packed or not. When Oliver confirmed the former option, she sheepishly asked for the name of his son and wrote down "William" on the pink box covered in numerous hearts of various sizes, which once again didn't fail to make Barry chuckle. He got a glare aimed at him in return, but something was telling him every time Oliver did that, the venom behind it got less and less serious.

Once they had the cake safely in the box and their coffees in their hands, Oliver proceeded to pay before Barry could even get his wallet out. Had things been any different, he would have argued about this, but he figured it made sense that only one of them would pay since they were "together" and besides, he understood it for Oliver's way of saying thank you since Barry was the sole reason he got the cake for his son in the first place.

Barry anticipated they would exchange vague goodbyes after that since the barista was already too busy with another customer to pay them any mind and be on their way back to their lives as if nothing like this happened with the only difference that they now had a hell of a story to tell, but no such thing happened. Barry proceeded to go sit down to his usual spot and Oliver followed, awkwardly asking whether Barry would mind him sitting there with him, to which Barry merely smiled and nodded.

"It's nice to meet you by the way," he said, not raising his hand for a handshake and risking the barista would see. "Circumstances could've been better, but it was fun."

"You made that abundantly clear," Oliver deadpanned.

"Hey, you got your cake, didn't you? So if anything you should be grateful."

Oliver shook his head but smiled at his strained tantrum and Barry felt warm all over because he knew that meant the man was as grateful as he should be and Barry didn't need to hear the words to know that. Somehow just seeing was enough in this case and send his heart skyrocketing for no valid reason yet again.

"Why did you do it, though?" Oliver eventually asked.

Barry could reply with another teasing remark, but he decided to go with the truth instead. "Because you were right. When you said that love between two people who are a couple shouldn't mean more than the love parents have for their child. I'm pretty sure they have a suggestion box here somewhere. We might let them know what we think."

"And see them ignore it and keep doing whatever the hell they want? No thank you."

"Are you always this optimistic or should I just consider myself lucky?"

"It's just been a hectic week for me."

"Central isn't to your taste?"

"Is it that obvious that I'm not from here?"

"Only to people who you're fake-dating," Barry teased. "You're visiting or?"

"I've recently moved in, actually. To stay close to my son."

Weirdly enough, only then did some trivial realizations dawn on Barry. After all, he knew from Iris that a certain person of her interest had moved from Star City to Central recently. "You're Oliver Queen, right?"

"We're already on the full name basis? Here I thought you were one of those people that would take things slow in a relationship."

Barry's eyes widened in amusement after hearing an honest-to-god joke from the man who seemed anything but carefree not so long ago. "I consider our relationship too special for that."

"In that case, you should know it's not fair I don't know your full name."

"Barry Allen," Barry replied, unable to fight off his smile. Exchanging names like this had to mean something, right? If Oliver planned to forget this day even happened, that they met in such a crazy way, he surely wouldn't go through the trouble of staying there, talking with Barry and possibly finding out more, would he? More importantly, what was Barry promising himself to get out of this? What was he hoping all this meant?

"I bet your son is gonna love the box once he sees it," he changed the subject to keep his mind in here and now. "Horrid pink with hearts all over. Who wouldn't love such a creative design?"

Oliver openly laughed at the comment which Barry stored in his brain for safekeeping on instinct. "He's gonna love the story behind it even more."

The conversation didn't cease any time soon after that. Sure, there were moments of silence between them, but they all felt as natural as the times their mouths were overloaded with words. Whoever walked past them, there was no way they suspected Oliver and Barry had just met. It was like the barista said, they were awfully in sync to be mere strangers to each other. Barry could muse about it in his head, but he knew that wouldn't get him anywhere he liked and so he just kept the conversation flowing as effortlessly as before.

They left the coffee shop together. Oliver thanked him again, with words this time, and after they exchanged goodbyes and smiles, that was it. Barry was on his way home, feeling like the world could collapse and he wouldn't notice because while his legs were moving, his mind had failed to leave Oliver's side just yet. Once he realized it, he chastised himself for keeping his hopes up when the odds of him seeing Oliver again were so close to zero it hurt. Not in a way how hearing Iris and Eddie were getting married did, of course, but it still hurt more than it probably should have considering everything. So he decided to stop thinking about it once and for all and just get on with his life, back to his routines and stability.

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To his utter surprise, he found out that it wasn't even remotely that simple when he walked into Jitters the next day and noticed Oliver waiting for his turn. He politely said hi as he passed by and was stunned to the bone when Oliver not only said it back but engaged him in the conversation before he could get too far. Just like that, they fell right back in whatever force was making sure they felt good in each other's company. And once it was their turn to order, somehow, without either of them confident enough to explain it, they just knew they were gonna drink from the cups covered in love again. It was a silent agreement between them. That day and every one that followed until it became another routine bringing joy to Barry's life.

Oliver rarely decided to take the cake currently on the offer with him home. Instead, he ordered just one piece which they both shared as they were sipping on their coffees and talking. Neither of them minded the charade they had to keep going in order to convince every barista that they were indeed a couple. It wasn't a matter of not wanting to risk someone calling them on their bullshit one day or not being able to live without having their coffees served in the horrid looking colors. The couple's menu was cheaper than getting all of it separate and while that shouldn't matter since the cheapest approach would be paying solely for their own coffees by themselves and not getting any cake, it made perfect sense to both of them when the possibility to spend the time together was on the table. Most of the baristas didn't care about whether they were telling the truth or not either. Only the woman from the first day did even though Barry was pretty sure she was fully aware they were only faking and just kept her mouth shut to keep the game going.

That was probably why Barry was doing it too. It was fun, exhilarating and yet so natural he didn't feel nervous or under any kind of pressure even when he forgot to watch himself and leaned maybe just too close to Oliver's personal zone. Then he remembered that he was supposed to fake they were in love after all and he leaned all the way in, using Oliver's biceps as a pillow or squeezing his shoulder and relishing in how it felt when Oliver returned the gesture.

It didn't take long before these moments in Jitters started being his favorite part of the day. He was no longer questioning the magical vibe between them. It was just warming him to the core that he had a friend who was so easy to talk to. With Iris being busy planning her own wedding, he had every right to miss such simple interactions that were about serious talk as much as it was about merely messing around. Two months of these regular meetings passed and he felt like Oliver could safely compete with both Joe and Iris about who knew him best and possibly come of it as the winner and from what he learned from Oliver, the feeling had to be somewhat mutual.

One day, however, turned out to be different after all when Barry entered Jitters and couldn't see Oliver anywhere inside the coffee shop. His face fell down for a split second before he realized he was being ridiculous, relying on a deal they never had in the first place. Oliver was his own person after all. He couldn't expect the billionaire to come there every day for the rest of their lives. Besides, it was probably a sign that Oliver had grown tired of their silly charade and this was his way of showing they needed to stop. Barry could understand that although he was definitely going to miss the cups where Oliver's name would occasionally be written with a small heart above the letter "i" instead of a dot. Even the mere thought made him smile despite how bitter he was still feeling.

But then the door to the coffee shop opened and there was Oliver with his blue eyes so bright Barry supposed all those magazines were rightfully going mad over them. Not that he'd read any of them, but he knew from all those times Iris' celebrity crush would be showing just a tiny bit too much.

Their eyes fell on each other, making Barry's heart leap in his chest when Oliver dedicated him one of his rare but immensely warm smiles. It was as if this one moment, however brief, was straight out of a romance novel, ending in the most horrid way ever when Barry noticed Oliver didn't come alone that day.

As soon as the blonde woman with glasses and a smile so charming Barry felt his stomach drop, leaving him utterly confused because what the hell, Oliver looked at her and Barry supposed that was that. He watched them interact, witnessing Oliver dedicate her the same smile, and fighting not to visibly squirm. She was really pretty and they looked good together. Barry should be happy for his friend because that was what they were. Friends. They were not together. Never would be. Not because Oliver wouldn't handle being in a serious relationship, Barry knew him well enough to know that was just bullshit the tabloids kept feeding to maintain interest among their readers, but because they were just pretending and that was okay. It was what they both wanted.

But then why did he suddenly feel so hollow?

He didn't get a chance to find out that day when he noticed both Oliver and the woman with him were making his way to him. Shit, shit, shit, what was he supposed to do? To say? What if they noticed him staring and thought he was weird? What if this woman was going to scold him for making the whole coffee shop believe he was dating her boyfriend? What if Oliver no longer wanted anything to do with him?

"No supertardiness today?" Oliver quipped. "Some special occasion?"

"If by special you mean Captain Singh was again in one of his moods, which was worse than usual and made me pretty much run away from there, then yeah," Barry replied, trying to be as nonchalant as possible and hoping to God it was playing off.

"Captain Singh from the CCPD?" the woman asked. "You work there?"

"As a forensic scientist," Barry confirmed and frowned. "And you are?"

"Oh, I'm Felicity. Smoak," the woman beamed and extended her hand. "I'm only asking because I'm applying for a job there."

"Barry Allen. And really? What kind?"

"Hacking. Not the bad kind, like stealing people's money or anything! Although I could do that, but only if it was meant to do good. Not that I think people should steal. They definitely shouldn't do that. Especially not when there could possibly be another way how to solve their situation."

"I think he gets it, Felicity," Oliver gently pitched in.

"Right, sorry! I'm just... I'm supposed to have my interview tomorrow and I thought I was fine, but now after hearing you talk about Captain Singh I feel like applying was the worst idea I ever had."

"Hey, it's okay," Barry said. "I'm sure it'll go fine. Besides, he's a lot nicer to newcomers even potential ones. Just convince him he needs you and you'll get the job."

"Wow," Felicity gasped and looked at Oliver, "you were right. He really does know what to say to make people feel better."

"I didn't say that," Oliver denied and if Barry didn't know him any better he would think he was blushing, but that was just a silly thought, wasn't it?

"Oh yeah, just like you don't come here every day at the exact say time, right? I wonder, is it because of the coffee or something else?"

"Actually, it's for the cakes," Barry joined and earned himself another glare that made him feel warm all over.

"Of course! I knew I wasn't imagining that there was something different about you. Now I know why," Felicity said, glancing briefly at Oliver's abdomen. But there was no harsh truth behind her words and they all knew it. She and Barry were just messing around. Oliver's torso, chest, basically everything definitely couldn't have been considered to be anything but dreamy not that Barry was picturing it or anything, but he had eyes and it was clear that Oliver was in good shape and that was that. It didn't have to go anywhere else.

"Well, I'm definitely not paying for either of you today, that's for sure," Oliver grumbled and turned to face the barista to order now that it was their turn.

"You're lucky we don't put up with you for your money, then," Felicity remarked, Oliver pretended he didn't hear it even though it was obvious he did and Barry could only stare at how carefree the whole situation was despite him almost bolting out of there mere minutes ago. Felicity's natural light just made it that easy to stay and have a good time. Oliver was really lucky to have her.

The billionaire didn't plan to order the couple’s menu that day, but before Barry could compose himself enough to make it seem like he didn't mind, which he really shouldn't anyway so what the hell, brain, yet again, Felicity cut the billionaire off and asked the barista to give him and Barry the couple’s menu, vouching for them that the man wouldn't find two people more in love in the whole city. Oliver rolled her eyes but let her have it her way, ignoring her every teasing remark about the romance-themed cups coming their way. Barry was too stunned to really pay them any mind as they were making a beeline for one of the tables.

Before they sat down, Oliver's phone suddenly buzzed, making him curse under his breath as he fished it out of his pocket. Barry figured it must be something related to his work when the billionaire just apologized to them, claiming he had to take it and marched outside with his coffee.

"Must be important," Barry pointed out sadly, remembering this wasn't the first time their afternoon got a bit ruined by Oliver's phone.

"He takes his job seriously. It wasn't always like that, but since he's had William, he's a changed man."

"You must be proud of him."

"More than anything."

"How long have you been together, by the way?"

Felicity almost chocked on her coffee. "Come again? Together as in being an item? Because we're not that. We might have been something before, but now we're just friends."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought-"

"I guess that makes sense. He's the guy everyone has a crush on and once you get to know him, it's even worse. I fell hard far too quickly and it was working for a while, but eventually, we both figured we were better off as friends. It wasn't meant to be for us."

"I'm really sorry to hear that." And he really was despite how his heart skipped a beat upon hearing the information.

"Don't be," Felicity shrugged. "It's better now. Really. He needs someone he has no problem to talk to. I wasn’t it for him, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a place in his life. And what about you? Do you have someone like that?”

He should've known this topic would turn against him and he had no reason to be upset since his feelings had never passed the “unrequited love” stage. Felicity's obviously had. She'd gotten a chance with Oliver, they'd been happy for some time and then life had decided to take it from them. He'd had numerous opportunities to do something about his feelings and he hadn't. He had no one else to blame but himself. But maybe that was why it hurt so much even after such a long time.

"Nope, it's just me. I mean, I have family and friends, they are everything to me, but I don't have anyone... like that. There was this one person, but I... I never said how I felt and they're getting married next week so... it's just me."

"Oh, Barry, I'm so sorry," Felicity consoled.

"It's fine," he waved off and for the first time ever felt like these words represented the truth in his heart. Even if it was only remotely, he couldn't dwell on this for the rest of his life. He needed to move on sooner or later and it seemed like subconsciously, he'd already begun. "Just wasn't meant to be, but it's better to know that now than find out years later, right?"

"Yeah, it might not mean much right now, but I believe things like this don't work out for a reason. One day we'll both be grateful for it."

He smiled and nodded. "I think you might be onto something, Miss Smoak." His eyes then fell on Oliver who was still outside, talking relentlessly to whoever was on the other side of that call. In the chilly day of November, the billionaire looked barely as if he'd even registered the cold despite the visible puffs of air coming out of his mouth and reddened cheeks. He looked like he belonged there and Barry found it impossible to look away.

"What about Oliver?" he cleared his throat and looked at Felicity who was watching him with an expression he didn't dare to figure out. "Does he have anyone like that?"

Felicity glanced at her friend with a smile. "I don't think so. Not officially at least, but he's been different these past few weeks so I'd say someone has appeared in his life even though it's likely he hasn't realized it yet."

Barry wasn't sure how he felt about that. He considered Oliver a friend, one of the special ones even, so, of course, he wished to see him happy, but just imagining that one day the billionaire would come here to drink from love-themed cups and share one piece of cake with someone else, some beautiful woman probably, it... didn't sit right with him.

He probably got too used to having these meetings in Jitters as a constant in his life. With Oliver being the fundamental part of it. After Iris and Eddie got busy preparing their wedding and he found it goddamn hard to be in their presence, it really made sense that he would need someone new in his life. He had Cisco, Caitlin, Wally and Ralph he was thankful for it every day, but sometimes, you just need something new or to do things differently than you normally would to see everything from a new perspective and ultimately appreciate what you had all along.

His life just seemed so much easier with a cup decorated with hearts in his hands, an indicator that it's essential to find the time to mess around sometimes and to forget about everything else. It reminded him of the times he'd spent with Iris, those little moments when they would just put their feet up and talk about whatever till it was too late to even hope they would get enough sleep that night. And for the first time, he felt determined to reach out to her.

"You look like you just figured out something," Felicity pointed out. "Something good, I hope."

"Remains to be seen, I guess," Barry said but smiled with all sincerity within him.

"That actually reminds me... Are you by any chance free this Friday night?"

"Uh, yes? If this is about Captain Singh again, then I assure you that while he has bad days, he never made me work on Friday night."

"That's... good to know, sure, but it's not why I'm asking. It just so happens that I was supposed to go with Oliver and William to the movies this Friday, but something came up and I don't want the ticket to go to waste. You and Oliver really seem like you hit it off so the ticket is yours if you want it."

"Um, I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Why not? You're Oliver's friend like me and if you're worried about William, he's thirteen and so basically, all he cares about is seeing that movie. He won't pay you that much attention and even if he did, just remember that he puts up with Oliver so you'll definitely be fine."

Barry wanted to say yes. It wasn't even his anxiety caused by meeting William for the first time holding him back from voicing out that one damn word. Oliver had talked about his son enough times for Barry to know William wasn't anyone to be wary of. He was into comics, movies, tv shows, and video games and Oliver was proud of him. It was apparent from every single word the billionaire uttered about his son. That counted for something. Had William been a spoiled brat, there would never be this spellbinding glint of content in Oliver's eyes.

So really, William was not the problem. But then what was?

He eventually settled for "I'll think about it," and maybe got a bit more relieved than he should have when Felicity flashed him a smile and nodded. They both noticed Oliver finally hung up and was now making his way back to them.

"Sorry about that," the billionaire said as he took his seat. "What did I miss?"

"Barry is going with you and William to the movies!" Felicity announced and watched both men gawp at her.

"That's not-" Barry started, but Felicity shushed him with a wave of her hand. "Oh come on, you were gonna say yes. You won’t regret it, I swear. Besides, it will make Oliver immensely happy if you come. Isn't that right, Oliver?"

Oliver stared at her hard, but seeing she wouldn't relent, he sighed and looked at Barry. "Yeah, what she said. But only if it's no trouble for you."

Barry didn't have any other choice than to cave in. Oh, what the hell, he thought, it was ridiculous that they hadn't met one single time outside Jitters anyway. "What movie are we seeing?"

"Ready Player One. Have you seen it already?" Felicity asked.

Barry had actually. The other day he went with Cisco, but it also didn't go unnoticed by him how the corners of Oliver's lips quirked into a tiny a smile as he agreed to go and he found himself ecstatic to see that movie again even though he was fully aware the motion picture itself had very little to do with it.

"No, but I always wanted to. I never pictured you to be into this kind of movies, though," he said to Oliver.

"You're implying I'm getting old?"

"N-no! Of course not! It's just that-"

"Relax, Barry," Felicity chuckled, "that's just your fake boyfriend making fun of you. There's no need to get all flustered for him. It doesn't do his ego any good."

Oliver narrowed his eyes at her and for a few seconds, Barry had the time to look away and at least try to figure out why today everything was so different. Why he was so flabbergasted when he should be just having a good time with Oliver like he always would. Felicity was nice and kind so there was no reason to even consider she had something to do with this, but something did. And why the hell couldn't he get to the bottom of it?

When Felicity and Oliver turned their attention back to him, he formed a smile, hoping neither of them could see how strained it was. It wore off quickly and soon he was back to talking with them like it was that easy. But then they were parting ways and Barry saw Felicity hug Oliver and he felt his insides churning and the bitterness was back. He needed to get his shit together before Friday would come. Leaving the impression he was weird shouldn't be the first thing he does in front of William, especially now when he really wanted to come and spend his Friday this way. So he told himself to suck it up and try to see the bigger picture here. It probably wasn't as big of a problem as he was making it out to be anyway.

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They had agreed to meet outside the movie theater and Barry was actually on time or at least that was what he first thought, but then the main entrance came to his sight and he stopped dead on his tracks. Because there Oliver and William were and he couldn't hear them. They were too far and the streets of Central were as alive as ever, but to him, there was no noise because the whole world fell silent. He just watched, surrounded by the imaginary tranquility, Oliver and William talking.

It looked like William was trying to explain something he considered amazing and Oliver was giving him his utmost attention. The billionaire must have understood something wrong, though, or at least pretended to because the next thing that happened was William shaking his head incredulously and soon falling into a round of laughter, which Oliver mirrored. He had definitely faked it, then, just to get his son to laugh like this. Before Barry knew it, he smiled at the scene before him almost feeling sorry he had to break it with his appearance, but after witnessing this little and yet meaningful interaction between the two, he felt much more relaxed than when he'd left his apartment that night.

"You're late," Oliver told him once he noticed him.

Barry innocently shrugged, not regretting his reasons for violating his punctuality that night. "I didn't want you to feel special, thinking I was trying for you. Your ego is already big enough as it is."

Before Oliver could counter the snarky comment, William snorted and all attention fell on him. "So this is the Barry you've been talking about?"

"He talks about me?" Barry asked, amused.

"Oh yeah, like all the time."

"He doesn't mean that. He's just trying to be funny," Oliver said and Barry smiled as their eyes locked for a brief moment. "I figured. Wonder who he got it from, though."

"Hear that, Dad? I'm just learning from the best like you taught me."

"Just get inside before I change my mind and we go home," Oliver replied, but the way he shook his head with an amused smile he couldn't fight was the only indicator they needed to know his threat wasn't meant to be serious at all. William looked like he wanted to say one more thing but chose to rather stay silent and go inside anyway with Oliver and Barry following behind. Once inside, he sent them to buy some snacks and drinks while he went to the washroom. Barry just found it endearing how Oliver rolled his eyes at his son being so bossy. Still having the moment between Oliver and William that was the reason he'd come late freshly on his mind, he was more than thrilled that he had come here in the end. Hearing Oliver talk about William was something he always enjoyed, it would always uncover this side of Oliver he doubted many people could see. But actually seeing them interact pushed it into a completely new level and he knew he would regret it if he didn't get to find out about that.

"He's cute," he said as they were waiting in the line.

"Don't let him hear you. He would never forget that."

"But it's true."

"He's thirteen. Saying he's 'cute' might as well be an insult to him."

"Oh yeah? And what’s your excuse? Because I remember you being bothered every time I called you cute in front of the baristas.”

“I wasn’t... bothered.”

“You calling me a liar, darling?”

“Nope, just delusional,” Oliver deadpanned and got away with it only because it was their turn to order. Once that was done the man behind the cash register looked at them and asked: “I don’t mean to intrude, but are you, guys, a couple?” Before they could answer he went on. “Because we have this offer going for tonight. We’ll give you a small bucket of chocolate covered cinnamon bears for half the price if you’re a couple.”

Barry had to chuckle at that because really what were the odds of two establishments having such a similar offer, but then another thing shocked him. Both he and Oliver remained silent, no longer trying to say that they were just friends hanging out even though that was the truth. Instead, they looked at each other, reading where they stood from each other's faces without any difficulty. What the hell, William was definitely going to be ecstatic about the extra snack anyway.

"Yeah, we're together and we'd love to have that bucket," Barry said, but there was something different about saying those words even though he had said similar ones so many times he'd already lost count. He saw Oliver smiling at him and that somehow caused the whole world to freeze and mute again, overwhelming him with an unfamiliar feeling of warmth. The next thing he remembered was Oliver handing him the said bucket with numerous brown bears inside and the two of them making their way to William who was already waiting for them in front of the entrance to the auditorium.

"You took your time," William concluded, clearly more intrigued than mad when he lifted his eyebrows questioningly.

"Yeah, that's on me," Barry said. "But we got you this, so all forgiven?"

William took the small bucket and beamed for a split second before he looked back at Barry, all serious again. "You're all good. This time. But I'll be watching you so you don't teach my dad your habit of always coming late. Like I said, he talks about you a lot."

"I believe what William meant to say was 'thank you', right, buddy?" Oliver mildly chastised his son.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," William said and rolled his eyes when Oliver arched his eyebrows at him expectantly. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Barry and Oliver said in unison, which made William snort before he took his drink from Oliver's hands and motioned for them to follow him. "We should get inside. It's gonna start soon."

Both men followed him and sat down at their rightful place with William sitting between them, exchanging the bucket with cinnamon bears for the one filled with popcorn with his dad, obviously saving that for later, which made Barry smile for probably the hundredth time that night. It wasn't like he minded, though, when it was making him feel warmer than he ever had. Even when the movie started, his mind didn't completely get the hint it was time to focus on the screen instead of the two people beside him. He was actually glad he had already seen the picture. That way it didn't matter how many times his eyes flew over to Oliver and William to watch them for a few minutes instead because he would still be up to date. He just couldn't help it.

It was clear the screening of Ready Player One was going to end for good soon. Most people had already seen it and thanks to that the auditorium was almost completely empty. Barry had never witnessed anything like it since he'd always been into movies and wanted to see them as soon as possible, but this solitude was really... nice. It gave Oliver and William the room to comment on what was happening on the screen without needing to worry they were disturbing someone else.

William would occasionally brag about how much more pop culture references he could spot than Oliver and no matter what, the billionaire didn't attempt to silence him, to put him down. He didn't get bored, he listened to all his son said and even looked truly immersed by the movie. The sight made Barry so spellbound he couldn't stop staring for several minutes and even when he eventually forced himself to watch the screen and not look away again, his mind stayed there in that magical moment. Everything he'd seen that night convinced him that Oliver was a good father, which was another thing tabloids never got right. Their loss, he thought and kept smiling till the end of the movie.

After they left the movie theater, William excused himself again when he spotted one of his friends from school to go say hi.

"I'm really glad I came with you, guys," Barry said once he was alone with Oliver.

"Even though you've already seen the movie before tonight?" the billionaire asked and chuckled when Barry's eyes widened. "Yeah, I knew the whole time. You might be an amazing forensic scientist, but that doesn't mean you can lie."

"I don't know if I should take this as a compliment or an insult."

"Take it as me showing my gratitude you came anyway, then. I keep hearing it's not one of my stronger suits."

"Oliver Queen is actually bad at something and openly admitting it? Has the world started ending while I wasn't watching or what?" Barry teased and chuckled when the billionaire rolled his eyes at him in that affectionate way he did with William. Then, however, Barry’s phone buzzed, alerting him of a message from Iris. Being reminded he had to attend her wedding and that he still wasn't completely okay with it, his mood fell down so radically Oliver would have to be blind not to notice.

"Hey, you okay?" he gently asked with nothing else but clear concern written all over his face.

"It's nothing," Barry lied, all too aware Oliver could tell and expecting to be questioned about this further, but the billionaire didn't say anything. He just nodded, seemingly content to let the silence stretch out and let this be the way of how this amazing night was supposed to end. Barry should've been grateful that his friend wasn't prying, but for some reason, he decided to clarify regardless.

"You remember how I mentioned two of my friends getting married?"

"Iris and Eddie, right?"

"That's them. And it's happening next Tuesday and I just...," he trailed off, not even knowing where he was going with this.

"You don't feel like you're ready yet," Oliver finished for him, obviously remembering all that Barry had willingly shared with him about his bitter experience with love. If the circumstances were any different, Barry would be touched that Oliver cared so much he listened and remembered all that had been said between them. But like this, he just felt embarrassed to the bone.

"Barry, there's nothing wrong with taking your time," the billionaire said and although Barry believed his words, there was just something odd about the way he said them. Or maybe it was about the special kind of sadness he could see in these piercing blue eyes before him. He couldn't decipher what it meant for anything and it was driving him mad because here he was, bothering Oliver with his problems when the latter could be possibly dealing with something much worse and just keeping it to himself to have this weight solely on his shoulders. Now that was pathetic and for a while, Barry felt speechless until he remembered what amazing time he'd been having every time he'd met with Oliver and an idea popped up in his head.

"Come with me," he said before he could think better on it.

"What?"

"To the wedding. As my plus one."

Oliver stared him down, obviously not buying he was being serious. "You want me to go to a wedding and pretend we're together in front of dozens of people?"

"Why not? We're already pretending and obviously doing a good job."

"You call fooling a bunch of baristas, people we don't know, a good job?"

Barry slumped his shoulders and let his head fall when it occurred to him how ridiculous he was being. Of course pretending in front of his friends and family would be different and honestly, he had no right to ask that of Oliver so what the hell was wrong with him? Was he really so scared of facing Iris and Eddie that he forgot he and Oliver were in this together as equals? Since when was he so selfish?

"You're right. I'm sorry. I don't know why I even suggested it. Just forget it happened," Barry pleaded and looked up only after he heard William making their way to them.

They said their goodbyes quickly after that, which made Barry hate himself immensely more. He just had to ruin a perfect evening like that, didn't he? He wondered what that meant for him and Oliver. Whether the billionaire was upset and would ditch their regular meetings in Jitters or worse, ditch him completely. He got his answer at least partly the next Monday when he went to Jitters and Oliver wasn't there. But honestly, he had no one else to blame but himself so he took the coffee with him outside, feeling the breath of winter embracing him mercilessly and taking it as the punishment for being such a fool as it was and he went home, already trying to prepare himself for tomorrow.

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Surprisingly, interacting with both Iris and Eddie wasn't as hard as he thought it would be. Somehow the bond he had with them found its way to work again despite his disbelief and talking with them felt easy. Even seeing them together, stealing glances, smiling and just being happy gave him this vibe that it was how it was supposed to be. They belonged together. It was as clear as a day when they were both glowing in the most beautiful way there was.

Barry felt happy for them as sincerely as he should have right from the start. It made him realize he had been even more of a fool all this time. He could have honestly enjoyed this wedding, but the way he'd parted ways with Oliver last Friday was all he could think of. He could deny it all he wanted every time someone asked him if he was okay, but it didn't make his pain disappear or him forget about it. The ceremony hadn't even started yet, but he already knew he had to fix this somehow or at least try. He would call Oliver after the wedding or maybe come to his apartment. What if Oliver wasn't home or refused to let him in? What if he didn't want to have anything to do with him ever again?

He was so immersed with what-ifs and maybes that he failed to realize everyone around him turned their attention away from wherever it was to openly stare at something. He got out of his trance only after the voice he knew all too well found its way to his ears.

"Seems that you're already rubbing off me," Oliver said with a smile. "But unlike you, I have a valid excuse for being late. I had to find out which wedding was the right one. Did you know there are two other weddings happening today? It's November. Who gets married in a goddamn November?"

"That'd be us," Eddie said cheerily as he and Iris appeared beside them. "You have to forgive us. We just couldn't wait any longer to make this official. Besides, we had no idea Oliver Queen himself would come by."

"It's such an honor to meet you, Mr. Queen," Iris babbled out and punched Barry on his arm, which finally made him overcome his shock of seeing Oliver there. "Why didn't you tell me you were bringing someone with you when I asked?"

"Actually, that's on me," Oliver claimed. "It wasn't the plan. I just changed my mind in the last second."

"You did?" Barry blurted out as the fool he was, still unable to believe this was really happening.

Oliver looked at him and smiled so warmly Barry thought his heart was going to burst and that was no longer normal. Even in his standards. He knew he was missing something, but figuring it out seemed still so out of reach. "You're gonna introduce me to your friends or not?"

"Right, sorry. Iris and Eddie, this is Oliver," he said, suspecting Oliver was daring him to introduce him as his boyfriend. Barry, however, said or implied no such thing and just left the introduction as it was. With a single look at both Iris and Eddie he could tell they saw them as the couple they weren't. He had no idea why he refused to tell them they were wrong, though.

"How long have you known each other?" Iris asked.

"Just a few months," he replied and somehow the conversation kept going until Iris and Eddie excused themselves to get ready and Barry finally had time to talk to Oliver alone.

"Why did you come? Not that I'm not happy to see you, but... when I didn't see in you in Jitters yesterday, I thought..."

"I'm not so easy to get rid of, Barry, don't worry. Besides, there's booze and cake for free. You know me, how could I say no to that?"

Barry laughed at that and squeezed Oliver's arm in the affectionate way they were both used to by now. "Thank you, Ollie."

Oliver dedicated him another smile and that was that. The two of them never left each other's side for too long during the whole event. They fell into a conversation with numerous people Barry knew, Joe, Cisco, Caitlin, Wally, Dr. Wells, Ralph, all of them obviously suspecting he and Oliver weren't just friends and yet Barry didn't correct any of them because he was having such an amazing time that he thought this would totally ruin it and he didn't want to do that the way he had the last time.

Being with Oliver just felt so refreshing and easy, he didn't feel like the stranger he'd been worried he would be all this time. He was bursting with gratitude and he wanted Oliver to know that because he was all too aware the billionaire had helped him to heal from his unrequited feelings and how they'd broken him. He thought the damage couldn't be erased or conquered, but thanks to Oliver that was exactly what had happened without him knowing all along.

This was what kept him smiling during the whole ceremony as he watched Iris and Eddie exchange their vows. His eyes fell on Oliver's hand right next to his and he had no idea what possessed him right at that moment, but the next thing he knew, he lightly stroked the back of Oliver's hand with the tips of his fingers and before he could freak out, Oliver turned his hand with his palm up and stopped his own hand from retracting. Barry relaxed and entangled his fingers with Oliver's, letting the all too familiar feeling of warmth by now spread and his heart go skyrocketing at the contact.

They didn't let go for the rest of the ceremony and Barry was pretty sure no one was watching them, trying to determine if they were together or not. This right there was just for them and only after they had to stand up and let go, it occurred to Barry to actually wonder whether he knew the answer to the one question of all those people staring at them. He'd been pretending all this time to be in love with his friend. Had it really gotten so out of hand that he failed to notice he stopped faking it somewhere along the way without taking any hint?

Suddenly, he felt like the whole world was going to collapse on him. Remembering all those times his knees went weak upon seeing Oliver smile or when a shiver ran down his spine upon standing so close to the billionaire their bodies were almost touching. Back then, he was too exhilarated that he could still make friends, that he had made a friend as amazing as Oliver and that after all this time he finally felt normal and content and... happy. He'd been healing all this time and he just didn't know, but now it all made sense and the realization was more than just dreadful.

Because how could he expect Oliver to ever feel the same? Oliver Queen whom every girl wanted, who was funny and much more thoughtful than anyone would expect him to be, who was an amazing father who cared about small things and would always do anything to make his loved ones happy. And who, most importantly, was straight. Barry inwardly cursed. He was so screwed he wanted to cry. How had he let this happen? Why couldn't he just stay out of the quarrel the day he'd met Oliver? Why couldn't he just stop going with this play of pretending they were in love so willingly?

Everything was caving in. The world suddenly felt too loud and his head hurt. He desperately needed to get out for at least a minute, so he marched towards the nearest exit, not giving even a tiny bit of damn that it was too cold to stand outside only in his suit. All he wanted was to think in silence and peace, but even that seemed to be too much to ask when he noticed Oliver came after him, all perfect and dashing, making Barry's body wanting to react despite him being all too aware Oliver was the last person he wanted to see right at that moment.

"Hey," the billionaire said with concern written all over his face yet again and Barry wanted to laugh at the irony that Oliver himself was partly the reason for it and just didn’t know about it. "Is everything alright? If it's too much for you to be here, we can leave. Just say the word."

"No, it's not that," Barry sighed, unable to look at him. "Everything's fine. I just needed to get some air and think."

"Alright. Then I leave you to it. Just don't stay here too long. I have a feeling Joe would blame me if you froze to death."

Barry didn't laugh as he was supposed to. He didn't even smile or look at Oliver who turned away to leave. But that was the thing, deep inside Barry didn't want him to leave. Not like he had last Friday and not like he was leaving now, which was why he uttered that question he couldn't let go no matter what. "Why did you come, Oliver? The real reason this time."

The billionaire came closer and spoke after letting out a huge exhale. "Just wanted to make sure you'd be okay."

Barry knew Oliver well enough to know it was true, but he also knew him enough to figure out it wasn't all Oliver had to say. "I was doing okay. You saw that so you could leave any time you wanted, but you stayed anyway. Why?"

"If you wanted me to leave, Barry, you should've said so."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then tell me what's wrong."

Barry took a deep breath, trying to make sense of the mess his thoughts were in and failing to find the right words, growing more agitated with every passing second because Oliver was waiting for him to explain what was going on with him and he so desperately wanted to but found it too hard to even say anything at that point.

"Everyone inside thinks we're together," he finally said.

"So? I thought that was the plan. The two of us, pretending and lying to your family and friends, or did I get it wrong?" Oliver said and Barry knew that was meant to hurt.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Oliver denied but sighed when it was obvious Barry wouldn't let go. "I just find it interesting that lying to those you love is comes easy for you. You could've introduced me as your friend and denied there was more between us, but you didn't."

"From what I gathered you didn't deny anything either."

"Well, maybe because I didn't want to deny whatever they were thinking in the first place. Ever thought of that?" Oliver almost growled or maybe that was what Barry's messed up brain was telling him it was because at this point he really wasn't sure anymore. It felt like the world was trying to fool him, daring him to fall for its tricks just one more time and come of it finally broken for good because there was no way he had just heard that right. Oliver couldn't have said any of that because it just didn't make any sense. Not that it mattered because Barry's brain completely shut down once he finally noticed how close they were standing, looking directly into each other's eyes, unable to look anywhere else.

Barry's heart was hammering against his ribcage, deafening any other sound and most importantly all his common sense from trying to bring him back to reality. He didn't know how to respond, what to say, he just wanted to know what it felt for at least one fucking second and so in a flash, he connected their lips in the most horrible angle he could have and let it all crumble on him, ceasing to care completely whether Oliver would rebuff him, shove him away and never speak to him again. He just needed to know it was real. That he hadn't imagined ever falling for his best friend again and that he didn't wish more than anything to stop pretending.

He got much more, though, because Oliver didn't break away from him at all. Against all Barry's expectations, Oliver fixed their angle like it was the easiest thing on this world and kissed him back as zealously as possible, making Barry feel he could burst any second with pushing it even further and biting on Barry's nether lip, requesting an entrance Barry granted on instinct and moaned at the sensation, feeling his pants rapidly getting too tight to his liking, but he wasn't ready to let it end just yet. It was a dream coming true for him. Who would want something like that to end?

"I knew it! I knew I wasn't hallucinating it," Cisco's voice suddenly came to the surface and broke the trance he and Oliver were in, causing them to jump from the embrace and Barry wanting to die right on spot.

"Cisco, what hell, man? What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you two. It's time to cut the cake and Iris wants you there. Although I'm pretty sure she'd be willing to let it slide if she knew you were this... busy. I mean, Oliver Queen? Common mortals like us weren't enough for you or what?"

"You do realize I'm right here and I can hear you just fine?" Oliver asked, openly glaring at Cisco who backed away immediately. "Right, sorry. I'm just gonna run from this not at all awkward moment and say you're both alright."

"We'll be right behind you," Barry promised and tried to pull off a smile which was probably more strained than ever before he turned to face Oliver with an unreadable expression on his face. "That was..."

"Close," the billionaire finished for him. "It's a good thing he caught us like this instead of us arguing. I can imagine you being questioned about having troubles in paradise is the last thing you want."

"Wait, what?"

Oliver let out a deep exhale and finally forced himself to meet Barry's eyes. "You should go inside before they get too worried. Tell them I'm sorry, but I had to leave early."

"Leave? What are you talking about?" Barry said and grabbed Oliver's hand before the man could get too far.

Oliver glanced at their joined hands and lifted his free hand to gently separate them. "You got what you wanted. They're not gonna doubt anything now. But I'm done." He briefly looked at the ground, clenching his teeth, before looking at Barry again. "This would be so much easier if it just stayed in that stupid coffee shop." And without any more words, the billionaire walked away, not stopping or looking back and making Barry hate himself for failing to prevent this from happening. He watched Oliver leave again and although it didn't make any sense to him at first, after a few more seconds of silence, he realized he was the only one to blame for this. Because Oliver thought Barry had seen Cisco coming and kissed him only to make sure everyone believed they were together and honestly, could he really blame him for it? When he was too chickenshit to say anything to prove him wrong?

He did go back inside after that, but feeling more hollow than ever before, he wasn't a joy to be around anymore and eventually ended up leaving early too, thinking of everything he felt during that make-out session and coming to the most dreadful realization there was. He was in love with Oliver Queen and he just let that man walk away.

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Oliver knew both Felicity and William were trying to make him talk about it, but it was pointless. He was already getting over it, he just needed more time. It wasn't like Barry had ever tried to fool him into thinking it was more than just pretense on his part. Oliver had only himself to blame for suspecting this and now he had to pay the price. It was fine, though. He knew how to handle rejection or... heartbreak even. It wasn't anything new to him despite everyone assuming otherwise considering who he was.

Several days passed since the wedding. Oliver hadn't gone to Jitters at all as the coward he was, knowing all too well the building alone would remind him of Barry enough to make the pain raw again and ruin his whole facade and that wouldn’t help him with getting over this, which was why he turned away the offer of the owner of Jitters himself after he got a phone call from him that night, finding out he had supposedly won some price even though he was one hundred percent certain he hadn't taken part in any competition in the first place.

The man eventually admitted he just made that up to make him come because he had a daughter who, again supposedly, was a huge admirer of Oliver Queen and would die for a photo with him. Feeling too tempted to tell the man to shove it and go to hell, it took Oliver several seconds of silence to overcome the overload of emotions inside and say he'd be right there, already regretting ever going with it the second he hung up, but there was no coming back from it. Besides, there was a chance the man was being honest and in that case, his visit to Jitters would be a good thing, but for some reason, he couldn't help but doubt the man's words. It didn't stop him from leaving his apartment in the end, though.

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It was way past the closing hours, but the coffee shop was still all lit up, leaving an odd impression with how empty it was. There were no... there was no Barry and that was the whole problem. And it hurt just like Oliver suspected it would. But he told himself to shove it and finally pushed the entrance door and stepped inside.

"Hello? Anyone here?" he asked, getting no answer, which was weird because he was expected after all, so what was happening? Was this some kind of prank or a crazy way to rob him?

"You're here," he suddenly heard and witnessed his heart skipping a beat as Barry appeared behind the cash register. He spun around, marching to leave on instinct because this was just too much to take for him, but froze on spot when Barry shouted: "No, wait! Please stay. I just want to talk."

They couldn't talk. They'd lost that ability after the kiss and just being in the same room felt too suffocating, but somehow despite that, the idea of him walking away after hearing Barry beg him to stay without holding anything back seemed... wrong to him. So he stayed and turned around to face the other man, folding his arms and looking anywhere else. "Then talk."

Barry slowly made his way to him, stopping soon enough to leave several feet separating them. "Remember how we were making fun of the owner for coming with the whole menu for couples in the first place? It turned out he's actually a really nice guy. Maybe a bit too trusting since I convinced him to lend me the keys for tonight so quickly, though."

"Where are you going with this, Barry?"

"Just wanted to tell you how much this place means to me. It's not about good coffee or cakes or the whole vibe I get from it, although I love all those things too, don't get me wrong. But there's more to it."

Everything was screaming at Oliver to put an end to whatever this whole thing was and leave this part of his life finally behind, but then there was this small voice nagging at him to stay and listen. Barry was his friend first after all. He owed him to be there and listen when it was required.

"Every time I hang out with friends, we end up going here and we look forward to it. We don’t find it weird at all," Barry went on and took one step forward. "I met you here." Another step. "Out of all the places, this was the one where I felt like I could relax no matter what." And another. "After the whole thing with Iris and Eddie, I thought I would never be the same again. That I was broken and there was no way to fix it. And it took time, but eventually, I healed and let go. Partly thanks to this place too." He took the last step, locking their eyes and smiling before he uttered his next words."And I've fallen in love under this very roof and I was more late than I've ever been to realize it. But I know now and I'm sorry I couldn't say something sooner."

Oliver wanted to believe it. It pained him how much he wanted to believe it, but what if Barry was just taking pity on him? What if he was meant to have his heart broken countlessly worse than he already had?

"You once said," Barry broke his train of thought, knowing him perfectly enough to suspect what was going on in his mind, "that I was a terrible liar and you were right. Then you told me that you couldn't understand why I found it so easy to lie to my friends and family. And, Ollie, you were right about that too because it's one of the hardest things anyone could ask of me. The reason why I made it look so easy is that I wasn't lying in the first place. I wasn't pretending anymore. The truth is I've probably stopped a long time ago and I'm pretty sure so have you."

"But what if it's not real? What if we're just fooling ourselves like we've been fooling others?"

Barry slowly placed both his hands on Oliver's cheeks. "I think it's been real the whole time. We were doomed right from the start. We just didn't know about it. I'm a terrible liar and you could've told me to go to hell the second you got that cake for William the day we met, but you didn't. You just went along with it like I did. All I'm asking is for you to go with it now too if it's what you want. Because it is what I want and I'm sick of getting everything in the way of me saying it."

Oliver smiled before he could stop it and he knew right there on the spot that there was no reason to question what this was between them anymore. He knew what he was feeling, what he had been feeling for a long time now, and he wasn't going to fight it when Barry was right there, promising happiness Oliver was certain he would deliver when he had been doing it the whole time they'd known each other. It was time to stop refusing it. It was time to embrace it instead. And so he did just that when he wrapped his arms around Barry's waist and sealed the deal with a kiss, letting it serve as his yes to the other man's question. Now and every time anyone would ask him again. Because it felt real. Getting another taste of Barry's lips, he couldn't be more certain he was right where he belonged and it no longer mattered to him it had taken him so long to realize it and accept it. He was now convinced he wouldn't let Barry go for anything and that was what was mattered.

"I take that's a yes, then?" Barry asked once their lips parted and they could catch their breaths again.

"What, you didn't find that convincing enough?"

"I'm not sure," Barry replied and smirked. "You're much better at lying than me after all. You might as well keep trying harder to make me fully convinced."

"You're lucky I have no problem with that," Oliver finished and connected their lips yet again, already sure he would never get tired of this sensation because it was tangible. It was real and most importantly it was theirs.

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It was a regular day the next time they decided to meet in Jitters again. Barry still couldn't get over the fact this was officially his life. He'd never been this happy and sometimes there were still days he thought life would decide to take that away from him in the most horrible way possible, but Oliver never left again and that had to count for something, right?

They were waiting in the line as they had been numerous times before and yet something felt different this time. Their eyes were locked, hands always busy with finding countless ways how to stay in direct contact. They were in their own world, immersed and happy beyond belief it was something only the two of them shared. No one could take that away from them because they would be foolish to ever let it go.

"Welcome to Jitters," a barista they didn't recognize brought them back to reality. "What can I get you?"

Barry ordered for both of them and then finished with "By the way, we're together, so we'll go with the couple’s menu if that's okay" and feeling utterly joyful that this was official and as true as it could be.

The cashier, however, apologized instead and said they were no longer serving the couple’s menus because it was stupid to begin with according to their owner and someone had complained the policy implied one kind of love meant more than any other. Barry didn’t appreciate the irony of this at all, but he tried to wave it off even though part of him felt sad that he would never get to drink from the horrendous looking cups again especially now that he was so blessed with love and aware of it. Oliver must have read it somehow from his face as the know-it-all he was because once the barista wrote their names on the regular cups the billionaire asked: "Can I borrow your pen for a second?"

"Yeah, sure," the barista replied and handed him the object in question.

Oliver thanked him and reached for one cup, either writing or drawing something on it and then doing the same thing on the other cup. Barry couldn't tell what it was, though, because Oliver made sure it was indecipherable from the movements of his hand as the smartass he was, handing the cups back to the barista so Barry couldn't see why he needed the pen for as long as possible. Even once their coffees were ready, Oliver took them both and left Barry to pay for it which had been the plan anyway so Barry decided to let it slide and followed his boyfriend, relishing was he could call him that now, to their table. Only then Oliver handed him his steaming coffee with a smile. "I'm gonna miss the cakes."

"We can buy a cake next time we're here and share it like we used to. We don't need some special menu to be able to do that."

Oliver softly chuckled with so much affection Barry had to mirror it. "I guess you're right."

Barry finally turned the cup around in his hands so he could see Oliver's creation and stopped breathing for several seconds in shock and so much love he swore it had to be illegal because there was no way people could feel this good and get away with it. In the end, he decided to be immersed in it instead because that was what it was supposed to be about anyway.

He didn't throw away his cup that day. He took it home with him and for the rest of his life, he would wake up with it in his eyesight, reminding him that dreams could come true after all. He had never imagined a used coffee cup, although he did try to clean it as much as possible without damaging it, with his name in the center of a huge heart struck with an arrow to be the sign of something like that, but then again, he hadn't anticipated having someone like Oliver in his life either and here he was. And here he would always be. No matter what.

#olivarry #olivarry fic #fake relationship #slow burn #my last tribute to this amazing ship #hopefully you'll enjoy it as much as I did

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